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Summer jWemortes 


By 

Bertha Inwood Michael 
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BOSTON 

THE ROXBURGH PUBLISHING COMPANY, INC. 









Copyright, 1923 
By Bertha Inwood Michael 
Rights Reserved 


21 /a23 


©C1A7 04 0S6 . 



CONTENTS 


PAGE 

Home ...». 9 

Summer Memories No. i 

The First Spring Day.. 11 

The Flower Garden. 13 

Blossom Time. 14 

June Blossoms . 15 

Summer Memories No. 2 

An Evening Picture. 17 

At Evening Time. 20 

The Vacant Home. 21 

A Storm Song.;. . 22 

The Fire-flies Dance. 23 

Sunset . 24 

Eventide . 25 

Summer Memories No. 3 

Back from the Shadows. 26 

In the Vale.♦.. 28 

I Bide His Time. 29 

Winning Out. 31 

Our Doctor . 32 

To a Songbird. 33 

To a Bereaved Friend. 34 

Grandma’s Chair. 35 

Broken Treasures. 36 


3 
























Contents 

PAGE 

My Neighbors. 37 

The Lark. 38 

Our Gem. 40 

In the Light. 41 

A “Shut In’s” Prayer. 42 

True Treasures . 43 

In Memory of Father. 43 

’Tis Better. 44 

I Know Not. 45 

Summer Memories No. 4 

A Day with the Birds. 46 

Happy Easter Day. 48 

The Birds’ Message. 49 

Bird Songs. 50 

Cheer-ee Songs. 51 

The Song. 52 

Childhood’s Home. 53 

Merry May. 54 

Summer Memories No. 5 

Our Celebration. 55 

By the River. 57 

The Village Street. 59 

In Memory of Roosevelt. 60 

Dear Native Land. 62 

Summer Memories No. 6 

Family Visits . 63 

A Mother’s Prayer. 66 

4 


























Contents 


PAGE 

Treasures . 67 

Advice to a Maiden. 69 

A Birthday Wish. 71 

The Woman Who Helps. 71 

Who ? . 72 

Our Hostess. 73 

Plans. 76 

I Miss Her So. 77 

A Woman’s Mission. 78 

Mother. 79 

A Smiling Babe. 81 

Reunion Day . 82 

To Father. 83 

Sweet Sixteen. 84 

An Honorable Lady. 86 

Our Blessing . 87 

The Sister that Sacrificed. 89 

Jewels . 90 

Faith Eyes . 91 

Some Poets. 92 

My Old Sweetheart. 93 

To the Mother of a Son. 95 

A Cherished Picture. 96 

Evolution of the “Up-to-date” Farmer .... 98 

Summer Memories No. 7 

A Night Vision. T02 

At Close of Day. 104 

Night . 105 

5 




























Contents 


PAGE 

Meditation .. 106 

Keep Thinking .. 107 

A Summer Eve... 109 

’Neath Summer Skies .. no 

The Katy-did .. in 

Summer Memories No. 8 

Butterfly Day. 112 

The Butterfly. 114 

Flitting Blossoms. 116 

The Flowers. 117 

Beauty Everywhere. 118 

Summer Memories No. 9 

Among the Pets. 119 

The Dearest Pet. 121 

The Squirrel . 122 

What a Farm Laddie Does. 123 

Playmates . 125 

Summer Memories No. 10 

Play Time . 126 

Our Baby. 128 

An Old Friend . 129 

Would You? . 130 

Kitty Blue-bell. 131 

Willing Hearted . 132 

Sleepy-time . 133 

Evening Lullaby. 134 


6 

























Lovingly dedicated 
to the ones who inspired 
most of them— 
“THE HOME FOLKS” 







HOME 


In a grove where wrens and blue-birds sing, 
Robins and red-birds are on the wing, 
Stands a modest farm house, painted white 
With sunny rooms that are big and bright; 
A black eyed boy, with a dog to guard 
Merrily plays in the grassy yard. 

At the great red barn not far away 
The horses busily munch their hay; 

Old red Bess lows from her stall near by, 
The pigs call hungerly from the sty, 

While lambs and chickens call to be fed 
And pigeons coo in the loft o’er head. 

Below the garden a small stream glides 
And wading along the clear brook side 
Is a fair-haired lass with bare white feet 
Who cools herself from the summer heat, 
And with her kitten and story-book 
Hies her away, to a shady nook. 

The ring of an ax comes clear and good, 
Uncle is chopping the winter’s wood; 

An auto in thru the barn door glides, 

The Master returns at even-tides, 

A busy Maid from the kitchen brings 
The evening meal, while she gayly sings. 


9 


Home Poems and Summer Memories 

The Mother sits in an easy chair 
And awaits her loved ones, coming there; 
They come—the laddie on dancing feet, 

The fair-haired lass from her cool retreat, 

The uncle old, and the maid so dear, 

The loved father, with smile of cheer. 

In the eve they gather ’round the light 
While some of the family read, some write; 
Then others—pressing piano keys— 

Are playing a tune some one to please, 

And above them all there clearly rings 
The victrola, that plays and sings. 

As the hour grows late the father reads 
From the Holy Book while each one heeds, 
Then they kneel and ask the Lord above 
To keep their home, e’er the home of love; 
Then to their rest—for their toils now cease— 
While stars look down on a home of peace. 

efc # * m * 

Wealth or position has not been sought, 

But comfort alone to this home been brought 
Where friends are welcome and strangers fed 
And little feet into right paths led, 

Where God and neighbor are loved,—and lo! 
’Tis a happy home, God keep it so. 


IO 


Home Poems and Summer Memories 


Summer jHemoriea;, J2o. t 

THE FIRST SPRING DAY 

The long siege of King Winter is ended 

To-day, for the first time this year, we have reveled 
in the sunshine and clean fresh air, as we have spent 
the long sunny hours in an old-fashioned rocker on the 
south porch. 

The rain has fallen almost constantly, for a number 
of days, but to-day the sky is clear and blue without 
a cloud, the sun covers the field with a golden flood 
of warm sunshine that holds just a hint of green, the 
leaf buds on the maple trees are swollen, and some 
soft gray pussy-willows peep at me from the corner 
of an old rail fence. 

There is a touch of green under the dull gray of the 
grass on the lawn, and from under one heavy thatch 
of it, a fuzzy little dandelion blossom has pushed his 
yellow head and smiles up at me as though saying 
“good morning,” and he seems to nod impudently at a 
robin, who has been looking over the orchard to find 
a location for her home. 

An old apple tree in the orchard is pushing out tiny 
green leaves and the robin, who is hopping among the 


Home Poems and Summer Memories 

branches, cocks her wise little head to one side, and 
looks at them as though wondering whether they would 
shelter her nest by and by. 

The crows are slowly flapping in from the south, 
and make a great deal of noise about it, just as though 
it was their duty to herald the fact that Spring had 
come. 

The English sparrows have noticed the change in 
the season also, and instead of the dismal “cheap, 
cheap,” that has been their cry through the winter, 
they seem to be having a lively discussion on new 
styles in spring suits, or perhaps they are consulting 
about a site for their home this spring; anyhow, what¬ 
ever it is, they make a great deal of noise about it. 

Although nothing unusual has occurred through the 
day, somehow there has been a difference between this 
and the past days—there is a wild, sweet tang in the 
air that floods into our lives and quickens our hearts, 
that brings a brightness to our eyes and a new joy, 
for we know that Spring has come. 

There is a new zest in being alive. The cobwebby 
corners of our minds are swept clean of the gloom and 
oppression that had gathered there through the dreary 
days of winter—and we go back to our narrow little 
daily tasks, with a quicker step, a new song in our 
hearts, a new desire within us, for we have seen and 
felt the miracle of life, from death. 

We are drawn in closer communion with, and have 


12 


Home Poems and Summer Memories 

received a new message from Him, who said: “Behold, 
I make all things new. For lo, the winter is past, the 
rain is over and gone, the flowers appear on the earth.” 
—Rev. 21:5; Canti. 2:11. 


THE FLOWER GARDEN 

The garden is a beauty spot— 

With hyacinths of dainty hue 
And narcissus and iris blue, 

And tulips, purple, red and gold, 

Their lovely blossoms now unfold, 

Then some are striped a handsome shade 
As fair a flower, as God e’er made. 

The lilies grow on every side— 

Some lemon lilies, fragrant, sweet, 

And lovely ones with “feathered feet” ; 

The gladiolus in a row 

Are dressed like beauties for a show, 

And peonies in satin gowns 

Wear red, or white, or pink-tipped crowns. 

Then there are hollyhocks and pinks, 
Sweetpeas and morning-glories too, 

Whose chaliced cup holds drops of dew; 


13 


Home Poems and Summer Memories 

And many roses sweet and rare 
Fling out their odor in the air; 

Near where the gay sweet-williams grow 
Geraniums and poppies glow. 

And there were other plants and shrubs— 
Some, natives of a foreign land 
That by the summer breeze was fanned; 
And when I walk the narrow path 
The flowers all seem to smile and nod; 
And then my heart flows out in praise 
To Him, who made them—Nature’s God. 


BLOSSOM TIME 

It is blossom time, the trees are all a-bloom, 
A fragrance from the orchard 
Fills the air with sweet perfume; 

A shower of snow-white petals 
From the pear tree, flutter down, 

The honey bees are humming 
O’er the cherry’s .snowy crown— 

For blossom time is here. 


14 


Home Poems and Summer Memories 

It is blossom time, the crocus lifts his head; 

The hyacinths and tulips 
Are a-nodding in their bed; 

The violets are blooming, 

The buttercups are shining, 

Around the latticed trellis 
The roses now are twining, 

For blossom time is here. 

It is blossom time and spring is here once more; 

The dandelions golden 

Are in bloom about my door; 

The brook is gently rippling, 

The frogs all croak a chorus, 

I hear a kill-dee calling, 

The birds are singing o’er us— 

For blossom time is here. 


JUNE BLOSSOMS 

I walked in the soft June twilight, 
The daisies bow as I pass, 

As, slowly I walk beside them, 
They shine like stars in the grass. 


i5 


Home Poems and Summer Memories 

There hidden among the grasses 
So I almost passed them by, 

Some violets blue remind me 
Of a maid that is sweet and shy. 

The peonies dressed in satin, 

How proudly they seem to stand; 

And with their fine airs are like to 
Some ladies both rich and grand. 

The pansies down in the shadows 
Are folding their petals tight; 

And look very much like children 
All cuddled down for the night. 

The gay little bachelor-buttons 
Are one of my daily joys; 

I think when I pass near by them 
Of bright little saucy boys. 

By the lily bed I linger, 

And kneel; when their white bells nod 
A tear drops as I remember 
Some babies beneath the sod. 

And then—in the dusky twilight 
I notice a sweet perfume; 

And think of Rose of Sharon, 

When I see a rose in bloom. 

16 


Home Poems and Summer Memories 


Summer jfflemortes j^o. 2 

AN EVENING PICTURE 

Weary with work and the heat of the day, I go 
to the east porch and lie down on a cot to rest, as the 
evening shadows fall. 

Little son lies down on the porch, near me, and as 
he watches the clouds flit by above him, he asks all 
kinds of questions concerning them: “Could I sail on 
a cloud, Mamma? Would they hold me up? What are 
they for, anyway, Mamma,” etc., until at last his tired 
little eyes close in sleep. 

Daughter sits at the piano playing “Touch my 
Daddie’s star again, change it back to blue,” and as 
her sweet childish voice uplifts in the song, the tears 
come to my eyes as I think how many little children, 
left fatherless by the cruel War, are wishing such a 
thing could be—then she sings, “There is work for 
all,” and through all her music, outside the house 
in the grass, an orchestra of crickets and other in¬ 
sects are playing an accompaniment, while the fire-flies 
flash back and forth through the trees like living stars, 
and a kill-dee circles over head and shrills out his 


17 


Home Poems and Summer Memories 

plaintive cry, in defiance of an approaching storm— 
for a great black cloud is rolling toward us from the 
south-east. 

The air is quiet—the trees seem to whisper silently 
to each other like children, frightened at the storm— 
there is a low rumble of thunder, a flash of lightning, 
and then—the steady rolling roar, of a downpour of 
rain, that is coming toward us. 

A neighbor goes whirring by in his machine, trying 
to reach home before the storm; just as there is a 
terrific crash of thunder and the whole sky is a-glow 
with a lightning flash, an automobile goes scurrying in 
to the barn, and Daddie has reached home. 

Then a feeling of peace settles over us, as no matter 
now what happens we are all safe together again. 

After all—the storm does not reach us, even though 
some rain drops dash across the porch, for a strong 
west wind springs up and drives the storm back across 
the eastern horizon, and we get no rain, but the air is 
cool and fresh now, and we are very glad of that. 

As the clouds roll away, the full moon peeps at us 
through them, and soon the world is flooded with its 
silvery light. The air is so clear that we can hear the 
sound of childish laughter from a neighbor’s home, for 
little Harriet and Freda are having a romp before 
they go to rest for the night, and we can hear their 
parents talking over the events of the day with a 
neighbor; we can hear the low moo-oo of a cow lowing 

18 


Home Poems and Summer Memories 

for her calf, but over and through all of the sounds 
is the continual chirp of insects and croak of frogs, 
from orchard and creek. 

As I go to my bed later on, I turn for a last look 
at the beautiful out-doors; it is like a living picture— 
the fire-flies are flashing and dancing through the trees 
in the pasture, beneath which the horses are drowsily 
feeding, and the sheep and cattle lying at rest; tiny 
cloudlets flit across the star decked sky, the trees wave 
their branches quietly, some corn growing in a field 
near by rustles its leaves,—and the whole picture is 
gilded with the rays of the moon. 

How good God is to pour out so much beauty on us; 
what a beautiful delightsome land He has given us,— 
and I wonder if the Prophet was speaking of a land 
like this, when he said: 

“Thou makest the outgoings of the morning and 
evening to rejoice. . . . The pastures are clothed with 
flocks; the valleys also are covered over with corn; 
they shout for joy, they also sing.”—Ps. 65 18-13. 


9 


Home Poems and Summer Memories 


AT EVENING TIME 

Out in a pasture, I hear a bell tinkle, 

Cattle are wending their way to the bar; 

While a small boy slowly trails along after 
Old Bess and Daisy and Star. 

See the colts frisking about in the meadows, 
Lambkins are skipping up now to the fold ; 

Low in the west, where the sunbeams still linger 
Clouds of blue, crimson and gold. 

Pale yellow four o’clocks fling out their odor, 

Sweet crimson clover is scenting the air; 

Out in the orchard the apple blooms whiten, 

Giving out fragrance most rare. 

Down in the field where the green corn is growing 
Breezes are rustling the leaves as they pass; 

Tossing the wheat that is whitening for harvest, 
Nodding the flowers in the grass. 

Mother hens cluck as their babies they hover, 
Twittering swallows fly home to their nests; 

Down by the streamlet the kill-dees are calling— 
Nature is sinking to rest. 


20 


Home Poems and Summer Memories 


Soft falls the dew, while the bright stars are peeping, 
Fire-flies are flashing, while frogs sing a tune; 

And the soft shadows of night slip about us, 

While a dog bays at the moon. 


THE VACANT HOME 

It stands untenanted; 

The doors all shut—the window blinds close drawn, 
The weeds grow tall along the old-time path, 

The roses riot all across the lawn— 

Whose only tenant is a stranger horse 

That crops the grass, from evening until dawn. 

The lilies from a mound 
A losing battle wage against the grass; 

The peonies in ragged satin gowns 

Bow down their heads like worshipers at mass; 

The elders bloom beside the stable door 
And strangers pluck the blossoms as they pass. 

The robin feeds her young 

Back in the orchard where the black-birds nest; 

The swallows chirp and flutter ’neath the eaves, 

The oriole sings there, a welcome guest; 

While in the maple tree, a tiny wren 
Swings on a limb and warbles at her best. 


21 


Home Poems and Summer Memories 

But mem’ry takes me back— 

I see the doors swing wide in welcome way; 

From out the window gleams a rosy light, 

The yard is full of boys and girls at play, 

A busy mother pauses at her tasks 

And smiles to see her youngsters all so gay. 

Once more I hear them sing 
When all the little village lay asleep; 

Beneath the silver rays of summer moon 
Their voices rising full and clear and deep, 

And all who heard them hastened from their beds 
And from their windows through the moon-light peep. 

But they are scattered now, 

From coast to coast, and o’er the western plain; 

And oft the father and the mother talk 
And wonder if they all shall meet again; 

God grant they may, some time in future years, 

Then have their work and prayers not been in vain. 


A STORM SONG 

Hear the crash of thunder 
Rolling through the sky; 
See the lightning flashing 
From the clouds on high; 


22 


Home Poems and Summer Memories 

God is sending to us, 

Freely doth He give 
Water from the heavens 
So that we may live. 

Chorus : 

Though the storm is raging and the winds are wild, 
God is watching o’er us, do not fear, my child. 

Come then little children 
Let us praises sing, 

While the rain is bringing 
Life to everything; 

Soon the sun will shine, dear, 

And the clouds roll by, 

Then we’ll see the rainbow 
Glowing in the sky. 


THE FIRE-FLIES DANCE 

Out in the meadow 
The frogs croak a chorus, 

And katy-dids shrill, at 
The evening’s advance; 

While crickets chirp loudly 
And fiddle the chorus, 

As all through the orchard 
The fire-flies dance. 


23 


Home Poems and Summer Memories 

The moon smiles above 
While fairies come tumbling 
Adown its bright beams, which 
Are like polished lance; 

And lambkins lie dreaming 
Beneath in the shadows, 

While far up above them 
The fire-flies dance. 

Now up in the trees, 

Now down in the shadows, 
They flit all about; and 
I see at a glance— 

The fairies that slid down 
The moon beams, are playing 
About in the grass, while 
The fire-flies dance. 


SUNSET 

Low in the west the sinking sun 
Has turned a glowing red, 

And clouds of crimson, gold and blue 
Are gathered ’round his bed; 

And like a curtain glowing bright, 
They shut him in—away from night. 


24 


Home Poems and Summer Memories 

Some insects chirp; a whip-poor-will 
Sings now his plaintive lay; 

The sunset clouds are fading now 
And turn to ashen gray— 

While evening stars with twinkling light 
Bedeck the sky with jewels bright. 

The robin trills his evening song, 

Flowers fold their petals up— 

A dew drop like a diamond shines 
Within the lily’s cup; 

A light shines in the eastern skies— 

The moon comes up—as daylight dies. 


EVENTIDE 

Swift to her nest 
The swallow flits at eventides; 

Safe through the night 
Within its shelter she abides. 

Thus would my soul, 

Dear Saviour, to Thy bosom flee, 
Safe there to rest 

When comes life’s eventide for me. 


*5 


Home Poems and Summer Memories 


Summer Memories J2o. 3 

BACK FROM THE SHADOWS 

For some time I have been in the “Valley of the 
Shadow,” now I have commenced to creep up-hill 
again. How kind every one has been to me. 

Daddie left the work he loved and was always used 
to doing, to come home and care for me, and day or 
night was ready to do all that he could; I hate to 
arouse him at night, but he had made me promise that 
I would, so fearing he would grieve worse if he should 
find me “gone” I called him when I became seriously 
ill, and he was always ready to help me all he could, 
or when nothing else could be done, stay by, while I 
fought my way back from the shadow of death. 

Daughtie, usually so careless and thoughtless—as 
most little girls are—is very kind! She grieves and is 
heart-broken when I suddenly become worse, when 
she is alone with me, but she calls help quickly and 
takes care of me until they arrive. 

Little son goes around big-eyed and serious and 
must needs slip up to me when he can, put his thin 
little face against mine and ask how I am; how pleased 


26 


Home Poems and Summer Memories 

he is to see me sit up the first time; and as he puts 
his arms about my neck to kiss me he says: “I’m glad 
you’re ’bout well.” 

What a blessing sisters and brothers are at a time 
like this. Although their hearts and hands are full of 
their own work and family affairs, they come to see 
me, call over the phone, bring me dainties; and I know 
they are thinking of me every day, even though they 
can not come to see me. 

I owe more than I can tell to the kindly Doctor. 
Not only to his skill, patience and interest, but when 
the burden gets so heavy that I would fain give up 
the fight, he makes me think it is my duty to get well; 
and since I do not want to be a slacker, I do try, 
although it is such a weary waiting time, that the real 
self within me would far rather slip away to where 
the “weary cease from trouble.” 

Then my girls—somehow, although God saw fit to 
take our own girls, He has given us some that we call 
ours, and they return the love and interest we feel 
for them many fold. Some came to care for me, some 
came to visit, or do anything they could, others, who 
could not do either, have written me letters, and it 
has all been such a help to me. 

The neighbors have been more than kind; some have 
called, some have brought me books or jellies or other 
goodies, and I appreciate their thoughtfulness very 
much. The ministers call and cheer me with their 


27 


Home Poems and Summer Memories 


presence, their words and their prayers, and my life is 
richer and more content for their help. 

As I linger in the “Valley of the Shadows,” I see 
better than ever before how crooked I have made my 
path, while climbing up life’s hill. I know because of 
the “thorn in the flesh” that I must always bear, that 
I have been unable to do my work as well as I should 
like to have had it, and yet—who but God knows— 
perhaps its very load has kept me from wandering in 
forbidden paths. Then when I stop to consider, I am 
sure of one thing, that is—I have been kept in closer 
contact with Him, who is my Best Friend, through it. 

Then, although I am grieved because I must be 
such a care to my loved ones, I have an abiding peace, 
and no fear, since I can say to Him: “Though I walk 
through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear 
no evil, for Thou art with me.”—Ps. 23 14. 


IN THE VALE 

I go down to a river, which 
Flows through a deep dark Vale, 
And none is with me there, except 
A Boatman gaunt and pale. 


28 


Home Poems and Summer Memories 


I shrink as waves lap near my feet 
In darkness like to night, 

My heart cries, to the Friend of all; 
Behold—the Way is light. 

Peace comes—the boatman is a friend 
Who wafts me o’er the tide; 

Because my Saviour waits for me, 

Just on the other side. 


I BIDE HIS TIME 

I bide His time; 

Yet I will be so glad to go; 

You say ’tis foolish, wrong, 

But ah, perhaps you do not know 

The weary dragging pain that will not cease, 

The broken flesh that works not to your will, 

The ceaseless striving of a fettered soul 

To be of service in his work, and still 

Must sit with numbing brain and helpless hands— 

You may not know, but ah, God understands. 

I bide His time; 

But how my soul beats at her bars, 

She knows when freed from flesh 
She’ll serve Him there, beyond the stars; 


29 


Home Poems and Summer Memories 

You think it weak and wrong, but well He knows 
’Tis just the longing of a weary child 
All broken, helpless, from a journey come, 

Seeking his Father o’er a desert wild, 

Well knowing, when he finds Him, he can rest 
Safe and secure upon his Father’s breast. 

I bide His time; 

And I will try to patient be; 

Although the time seems long, 

Yet He knows what is best for me; 

And though I can not do the thing I wish, 

Yet I may say or do some kindly thing, 

And if I keep my life in touch with His, 

Perhaps ’twill help some other soul to bring 
To Him; so that they can of service be 
And do the work He might have given to me. 

I bide His time; 

But like a soldier,—booted, spurred, 

Who waits the bugle call 
With all his garment fully gird; 

While He doth tarry, I will daily strive 
To do the thing I think would please Him well; 
And thoughts of Him, like seed, plant in some heart 
On every day; as like gold beads I tell 
Them one by one, yet ever ready stand 
To hasten, when I hear my Lord’s command. 


30 


Home Poems and Summer Memories 

WINNING OUT 

Back and forth inside a screen 
Rushed a bee; 

From his prison bars he longed 
To be free; 

So he walked the screen all o’er 

Trying where he tried before, 

But the opening in the door, 

Ne’er did see. 

You are foolish, little bee, 

Then I said, 

If your freedom you would gain 
Look o’er head; 

But he kept the self same track 

Rushing thither and then back 

Until finally—alack— 

He fell dead. 

Oh how often like the bee 
Humans are; 

Think that something in their life 
Is a bar; 

With a heart that’s full of doubt 

They will think they can’t get out, 

So they never look about— 

Very far. 


31 


Home Poems and Summer Memories 

Pluck and perseverance oft 
Win the race 

If we use them at the right 
Time and place; 

These the bee had, but he fell 
As he failed to use them well, 
So another tale they tell 
In this case. 


Would you win a place in life— 
Lift your eyes; 

Far above these earthly bonds 
Faith can rise; 

Nothing can your spirit bar— 

Hope and love and trust, reach far; 
Hitch your wagon to a star 
In the skies. 


OUR DOCTOR 

Who do we send for when in need, 
Who comes to us, with greatest speed 
And ne’er thinks ’tis a kindly deed? 
Our Doctor. 


32 






Home Poems and Summer Memories 

Who comes to us, how ever tired, 

No matter if the road be mired, 

E’en though a chauffeur must be hired? 
Our Doctor. 

Whose voice can drive away our fear, 

Who cures the sick-room blight, with cheer, 
Who lightens hearts and dries the tear? 
Our Doctor. 

Who battles e’er with death and life, 

And sometimes in the deadly strife 
His skillful hands must wield the knife? 
Our Doctor. 

Who goes to work with ease and skill 
To cure us of our dreadful ill, 

And then neglects to send a bill? 

Our Doctor. 


TO A SONGBIRD 

Dear Orpha, how sadly we miss you, 
The days are now gloomy and gray; 
Our home is so silent and lonely, 

Our song-bird has flitted away; 


33 


Home Poems and Summer Memories 

No more is there singing and gladness, 

And yet—when we lift up our eyes, 

It seems we can hear your voice trilling 
The songs that are sung in the skies. 

For like a wild songster—(when winter 
Has come with its cold cheerless days) 

Flits off to the south land and summer 
To sing there his wonderful lays— 

Your sweet gentle soul has fled upward 
Away from the world’s cruel strife, 

And there in a choir of bright angels 
You’re living a beautiful life. 

And so, though our hearts ache with longing, 
We would not recall thee, but pray 
Our lives may be counted as worthy 
To meet you up there, dear, some day. 


TO A BEREAVED FRIEND 

God of the Universe, bow down thine ear, 

List to the cry of the children bereaved; 

Be thou a Father unto them, oh Lord, 

Comfort the widow’s heart, that is sore grieved. 


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Home Poems and Summer Memories 

In Thy great mercy, give unto them peace, 

Hover them, Lord, with the wings of Thy love; 

And may their loss be as tenderest cords 
Drawing them near to their home up above. 

May they to Thee go, for council and guide, 
Strengthen their hands and their mind and their heart; 
Then may a blessing come out from their grief, 

And Thy great Spirit from them ne’er depart. 


GRANDMA’S CHAIR 

The moonlight through my window shines 
Across her old wheel-chair; 

It seems that in a vision then, 

I see her sitting there, 

A tender smile upon her face; 

She slips across the years 

And seems to say, “I’m happy, child, 

So wipe away your tears.” 

What tender memories still cling 
About that old wheel-chair; 

I see the aged wrinkled face 
All framed with silver hair; 

The dim gray eyes look up at me 


35 


Home Poems and Summer Memories 

With welcome all aglow, 

The slender hands reach out to clasp 
My own, as long ago. 

I see the bent and feeble form 
Within her old wheel-chair; 

My eager arms reach out to clasp 
And find but empty air: 

Ah, how I long for her, and miss 
The voice I loved so well; 

My hungry heart cries out for her 
More oft than I can tell. 

And yet—I would not call her back, 
Although my heart is sad, 

Because her work was finished here, 

And she I know is glad; 

But when the Lord has called me home, 
I’ll thank Him for his care, 

And then—I’ll greet the one who used 
For years, the old wheel-chair. 


BROKEN TREASURES 

I once had a beautiful treasure— 

A vase full of fragrance most rare; 
I cherished it ever so fondly, 

To me it was priceless and fair. 

36 


Home Poems and Summer Memories 

Was I weary, it always refreshed me, 

Or gloomy, it brought to me light; 

Or sad, then its fragrance brought gladness 
And filled all my heart with delight. 

A ruthless hand shattered my treasure 
One day, and my heart filled with pain; 
The odor still clung to the fragments, 

So each one of them I retain. 

I cherish my poor broken treasure 
With a love that will ever endure; 

I know though the vase has been shattered, 
The fragrance has always been pure. 


MY NEIGHBORS 

1 sing a merry lay about my neighbors, 

Who shower on me so many times their favors; 
They come to see me, sick or well, 

They bring me cake or fruits or jell, 

Oh many good things I can tell—of neighbors. 

Now they are very friendly folks, these neighbors; 
And while they share with me their love and labors, 
We talk of Church and school and state, 

Of home and things that’s up-to-date, 

How we must love and never hate—our neighbors. 


* 


37 


Home Poems and Summer Memories 

They seem sincere in all they do, these neighbors; 
Their love is firm and true and never wavers; 

I often think if God had willed 

That folks like these, the world now filled, 

That war would cease, and strife be stilled—by neigh¬ 
bors. 

Some day, of course, I’ll have to leave the neighbors; 
But when I end down here my time and labors, 

I think that heaven will be complete 
If up there on the golden street, 

The Lord each day will let me greet—my neighbors. 


THE LARK 

One cool day in Autumn 
(The birds south had flown) 
I found in the meadow 
A lark, all alone; 

Its wing had been shattered 
So it could not fly, 

But it sat there and sang 
While others flew by. 

In an old hollow tree 
It found a retreat, 


38 


Home Poems and Summer Memories 

And there it was sheltered 
Away from the sleet; 

And all through the winter 
Its sweet voice was heard, 

And our sad hearts were cheered 
By the song of a bird. 

Like the broken-winged lark, 

My life has been marred, 

For through sickness and pain 
From pleasure I’m barred; 
Should I lie here and mourn 
The weary day long, 

Or in spite of my grief 
Break forth in to song? 

Had the lark sat and grieved 
No heart had been stirred 
By the wonderful song 
Of the brave-hearted bird; 

So my grief I will hide 
And a song of good cheer 
I will sing; it will help 
Some life that is drear. 


39 


Home Poems and Summer Memories 


OUR GEM 

The Master placed in our hands one day 
A gem that was pure and bright; 

The casket that held it, fair and sweet, 
E’er filled our hearts with delight; 

We cherished it fondly all the while 
And our love grew more each day, 

And wonderful dreams and castles built, 
We thought she had come to stay. 

Oh turquoise blue were the eyes so fair, 
Her lips like to rubies red; 

An angel pressed there one day a kiss, 
They said then our babe was dead; 

Ah no, like stars in the Master’s crown 
Was our jewel placed that day; 

And far more safe than with us, while in 
The casket of moulded clay. 

The casket, we lay away with tears 
In a vault which flowers adorn; 

And Mother Nature a watch will keep 
Until Resurrection Morn; 

Help us to order our lives aright, 

We pray to the Master kind— 

So we may come to Thee safe, and there 
Our beautiful Gem we’ll find. 

40 


Home Poems and Summer Memories 


IN THE LIGHT 

One eve I walked alone, along the street 
The way was dark, so I could scarcely see; 

Black, sullen shadows lurked on every side 
And seemed to reach forth ghostly hands at me. 

I stumbled o’er the dim uncertain path 
And groped with outstretched hands in silent fear, 
And trembling, made my way toward a light 
That beckoned from a home I held most dear. 

Then all at once the street was filled with light, 
And all the fearsome shadows fled away; 

Someone, somewhere, had touched the hidden springs 
That made the darkened street as light as day. 

And then with head held high I walked along 
With firm, swift step, because the dark had fled; 
And all my fear and trembling passed away, 
Because the light was shining overhead. 

* # # # # 

One time I walked along the path of life, 

And all the way was full of doubt and fears; 

My heart was filled with dread because ’twas dark, 
And often from my eyes dropped scalding tears; 
But at the road’s end I had seen a gleam 
And went toward it, though the way was dark; 
Full oft I stumbled o’er the hidden path, 

Yet ever pressed toward the shining mark. 


41 


Home Poems and Summer Memories 

Then one day, as I prayed with quivering lip, 
There shone within my soul, a wondrous Light; 
For He who rules the path of Life had heard 
The prayer I uttered, and had seen my plight; 
And now with thankful heart I tread the path 
For all my doubts and fears have fled away; 
And all the way is full of joy and peace, 
Because the Light stays with me every day. 


A “SHUT IN’S” PRAYER 

Dear Father, hearken to my plea, be near to me; 

Oh keep me pure and undefiled 
And simple hearted as a child ; 

Yet—give me wisdom, such as only Thou canst give, 
So I may rightly know each day the way to live; 

Help me to walk so close to Thee 
That those I mingle with may see 
Not me—but Thee— 

And learn to know Thee as Thou art,—a Father kind, 
And joy and peace in serving Thee each day may find. 
Dear Lord, I pray just for to-day; 

But if to-morrow I should live 
With humble heart I ask, Lord give 
Me grace to pray near Thee to stay 
For just another day. Amen. 


42 


Home Poems and Summer Memories 

TRUE TREASURES 

When things of earth are fading fast, 
Life’s journey almost o’er, 

We find the things we thought were great 
Are counted that no more. 

Wealth, fame, position, our desires, 

Are only earthly dross; 

E’en friends must fail, but He who hung 
Upon the cruel cross. 

How foolish then to waste our time 
In naught but earthly gains, 

Since when we come to cross the “Bar” 
None of our wealth remains. 

So let us see our time be then 
To higher things more given; 

And lay where moth can not corrupt 
True Treasures, up in heaven. 


IN MEMORY OF FATHER 

You went away some years ago, 

Dear father, but we miss you still; 
Our aching hearts oft long for you 


43 


Home Poems and Summer Memories 

And yet we know it was God’s will; 
At times we seem to hear the voice 
That gave us council day or night, 
And memory visions oft the face 
That now is hidden out of sight. 

We can not turn Time back, ah no, 
But this thing we can always do— 
(Though you can never come to us) 
We can prepare to go to you; 

And though the years slip swiftly by 
It ne’er thy memory can erase; 

And some day, father, we expect 
To meet thee Yonder, face to face. 


TIS BETTER 

’Tis better to give a tiny flower 
To one who can see and know, 
Than to place a sheaf of roses rare 
On their bier, to make a show. 

’Tis better to say one loving word 
To those who can hear what’s said, 
Than to make a speech of eulogy 
After your friend is dead, 


Home Poems and Summer Memories 

’Tis better to say or give one thing 
Or to do one little deed 
Than plan to do great ones some day 
For those who are now in need. 

’Tis better to do a thing to-day 
Than to wait for future years; 
To-morrow may be a day too late 
And bring but regret and tears. 


I KNOW NOT 

I know not where I shall be when He calls, 

But this I know—that He will call some day; 
’Twere vain to spend my life on worldly things 
That I must leave, when I am called away. 

I know not when His voice shall call for me, 

But this I know—that it will not be long; 

Then I should useful in His service be, 

And watch each step to keep from going wrong. 

I know not how His voice shall call for me, 

But this I know—if I have done His will, 

My storm-tossed soul will answer to His call, 

And thrill with joy when He says, “Peace, be still.” 


45 


Home Poems and Summer Memories 


Summer jWemorieg j£o. 4 


A DAY WITH THE BIRDS 

We have had such a pleasant time to-day, as we 
Were able to spend all our time in the open air; the 
children made themselves a tent in the shade of some 
trees on the lawn and have played very contentedly, 
then at noon little son and I helped dispose of the 
luncheon Daughtie fixed for and brought to us, out on 
the lawn, as we were so busy becoming acquainted 
with the many birds that have been flitting about us, 
that we had no time for such prosaic things as dinners. 

Sonnie had been very much interested in a story 
Daddie had told him about a snow-white English 
sparrow that he had seen at the house of a neighbor a 
short time ago, so he is keeping his eyes and ears open 
to-day, so he can tell Dad of the birds he has seen. 

From a wheat field across the creek we have heard 
a quail whistle “bob-white” all day long, while a pair 
of rain-crows in a maple tree across the road, keep 
warning us that a rain is coming. 

A little gold-finch calls sweetly for his mate as he 


46 


Home Poems and Summer Memories 

flits over the garden, and a wren sings a rippling song 
for us from the pine tree where he has his home. 

An oriole whistles a tune now and then, as though 
to remind his mate who swings in her nest in the elm 
tree, that he is watching over her, while a mother 
robin, whose nest is in the pear tree, is very busy 
hunting food for her nestlings—and it keeps her very 
busy indeed. 

A pair of bright eyed doves leave their nest to feed, 
and whirr noisily over our heads to the pasture field, 
where a little song sparrow sits on a brush pile and 
sings to his mate in the nest near by. 

A mocking bird trills out a song now and then from 
the grove, where he has hidden from sight, and some 
black-birds chatter and scold in the cherry trees where 
they are having a feast. 

A pair of downy sap-suckers look over the catalpa 
tree hunting their dinner and talking to each other 
quietly, while a red headed woodpecker drums a tune 
on a dead tree in the orchard. 

The kill-dees, who have nested down by the little 
creek, cry noisily as they fly about overhead, but late 
in the afternoon, when they suddenly commence 
screaming and flying about as though frightened I go 
to see what is wrong. 

For some time I had not seen little son, and as I 
start for the creek, I am not surprised when he comes 
running toward me with a baby kill-dee in his hands. 


47 


Home Poems and Summer Memories 

He had found the lirtie beauty in the grass in the 
pasture field; what a delicate little thing it is, with 
its dainty long legs, its beautiful bright eyes look so 
wise and unafraid as we handle it, as though it knew 
we were friends, its gray black-striped suit is very 
pretty, and Sonnie is very anxious to keep it for a pet ; 

1 tell him it would be cruel to keep it from its parents, 
who all this time are fluttering and crying about us, 
so at last he understands—then he takes it back near 
the nest and sets it free. 

How pleased the parent birds are when they find it, 
and how it flees to them, even as “a bird out of the 
snare of the fowlers.” 

Then—clasping each other’s hands, we go happily 
back to our own home, singing, because we are glad 
that “The time of the singing birds is come.” —Canti. 

2 :i2. 


HAPPY EASTER DAY 

(Tune: “In the service of the King”) 

Birds are trilling in the meadows of the spring, 
This is Easter Day,—glad Easter, 

And their message far and wide they gladly fling, 
This is happy Easter Day. 


48 


Home Poems and Summer Memories 

Chorus: This is happy Easter Day, 

We will all rejoice and say, 

We will crown for King our Saviour 
Who arose on Easter Day. 

See the snowy Easter lily bells that ring, 

This is Easter Day,—glad Easter, 

And the air is full of fragrance that they bring 
On this happy Easter Day. 

Hear the little children’s voices as they sing 
This is Easter Day,—glad Easter, 

And they hail the risen Saviour as their King 
On this happy Easter Day. 


THE BIRDS’ MESSAGE 

Birds in the woodland and grove, in the morn 
Singing so happy and free— 

This is the message I hear in your song 
“God watcheth over me.” 

Gold-finches, bob-o-link, robin and wren, 

Mocking-bird, song-sparrow, thrush, 
Cardinal, oriole, swallow and lark— 

Sing at the morn’s first blush. 


49 


Home Poems and Summer Memories 


Filling the air with your melody sweet, 
Trusting your Father for food, 
Singing his praise as you busily work 
Rearing your little brood. 

Beautiful songsters, your lesson I’ll heed, 
This, then, my motto shall be 
And I will sing it each day at my task— 
“God watcheth over me.” 


BIRD SONGS 

A quail from the wheat field whistles, 
From an oak some rain-crows dart, 

A red-head drums a tune near by 
And a gold-finch calls “sweetheart.” 

A kill-dee calls from the pasture 
For a nestling gone astray— 

From her nest a dove whirrs swiftly 
While a bluebird sings all day. 

An oriole from the elm tree 
Sings his mate a merry tune, 

While the songs from field and meadow 
Proclaim that the day is June. 


50 


Home Poems and Summer Memories 

CHEER-EE SONGS 

The time of singing birds has come, 

Oh so glad are we; 

Come, children, let us haste away 
Out to the fields and groves to play 
And listen to the birds to-day 
Singing cheer-ee, oh. 

A mocking bird trills from the grove, 
Sing, dear children, sing; 

I see a cardinal flash by, 

A kill-dee gives a ringing cry, 

And all about us bluebirds fly 
Singing cheer-ee, oh. 

The oriole nests in the elm, 

Whistle birds for me; 

The lark now sings her golden song, 

A mourning dove grieves o’er her wrong, 
A wren is warbling all day long 
Singing cheer-ee, oh. 

The goldfinch from the garden calls 
Sweet-heart, sweet-heart, sweet, 

I hear the thrush’s silver note, 

The robin wears a red-breast coat, 

The bob-o-link near splits his throat 
Singing cheer-ee, oh. 


51 


Home Poems and Summer Memories 


Now, children, let us all rejoice 
Like the birds of spring; 

And always sing our praise to He, 
Who made the birds as well as we; 
I'm sure the world will brighter be 
If we sing cheer-ee, oh. 


THE SONG 

One sat by the road and sang a sweet song 
And the world rushed heedlessly past; 

It seemed no one heard, but still he sang on, 

For he thought to cheer some one at last. 

A traveler came by all weary and sad 
And grief stung his life like a dart; 

He sat down to rest, and heard the sweet song, 
And the song found its way to his heart. 

He always had mourned about his sad fate 
Till he felt life was scarcely worth while; 

He learned from the song that each had a place 
He could fill, and at least give a smile 

His heart was so cheered, that grief turned to joy 
By the wonderful power of the song; 

Then went on his way rejoicing and glad 
And resolved to help others along. 

52 


Home Poems and Summer Memories 

And now, as he goes along the life road, 

He is singing a song of good cheer; 

And gives joy and peace to other sad hearts 
And will gladden all those who will hear. 


CHILDHOOD'S HOME 

My thought go back in a well-worn track 
To a humble home near a wood; 

Where a small log cot, ’neath a maple tree, 

With a rose near the doorway stood. 

Two little girls, both with long, brown curls, 

~K father and mother, were there; 

Though riches were few, yet their wants were too, 
So that trouble was very rare. 

In an easy chair sits mother, fair, 

With her children near to her side, 

While they read and look at a pictured book 
That tells of Jesus crucified. 

At the organ near is the father dear 
And a melody soon is heard; 

Then their voices raise in a song of praise 
Like the notes of a happy bird. 


53 


Home Poems and Summer Memories 

A little back, lies the brown dog, Jack, 

And a kitten curled in a chair; 

’Tis a home of rest, but what was best, 

Was—content abided there. 

Though passing years bring trouble and tears, 
Yet the influence e’er will cling, 

Of that home of rest with contentment blest 
Where Love was the only king. 


MERRY MAY 

Merry May, bright and gay, 

Wild birds singing all the day; 

Budding tree, humming bees, 

Warm, sweet-scented, spring-time breeze. 

Flowers fair, everywhere 
Music filling all the air; 

Birdlings rest in their nest, 

As the sun sinks in the west. 

Skies are blue, work to do, 

There are many pleasures, too; 

Welcome spring, now we sing, 

For the blessings that you bring. 

• 54 


Home Poems and Summer Memories 


Summer iHcmories i^o. 5 


OUR CELEBRATION 

We were unable to celebrate July 4th this year, as 
we usually do, as son was just recovering from a 
serious attack of measles; but after talking it all over, 
we decided that Daddie and Daughtie should join the 
usual crowd that went each year to the river, while 
little son and I celebrated very quietly at home. Early 
in the morning we fixed a picnic dinner, and Daddie, 
Daughtie and Geraldine (who went along with them) 
started for the river, where they spent the whole day 
fishing, swimming and having a general good time with 
a jolly good-natured crowd. 

After the morning chores were done up, little son 
and I went out on the lawn, and while he sat near me, 
I read or told him stories, until the noon hour, then we 
fixed up our own lunch, and with Poodle and Golda 
(the dog and cat), we went to the grove, under the 
shade of some trees near the creek bank and pretended 
we were along the river, while we ate our stewed 
chicken, noodles, sandwiches and cake. Our crowd was 
not large, but it was very select, and they both set back 


55 


Home Poems and Summer Memories 

and behaved very nicely, never helping themselves 
except to what was served them, but no sooner was the 
basket repacked, until Poodle went racing after a wild 
bunnie, and Goida went on a still hunt for a field 
mouse. 

Little son was too weak to romp about much, so I 
spread some papers on the ground so he could lie down, 
and with his head in my lap he listened to some stories 
I read him from the Youth’s Companion until he 
drifted off to the land of Nod, then while he slept, 
I amused myself by reading and meditating, until he 
awoke, then we went back home. 

We had not been there long until our travelers 
returned, and told us to get ready to “celebrate,” as 
we were going to Grover Hill, where there were fire¬ 
works, etc., in the evening. We hustled through our 
evening chores, clambered into the “Dodge,” and were 
soon flying toward the little village. 

Although sonnie had to stay in the cax all the time, 
he had plenty of “sparklers,” ice-cream, and other 
treats, saw the fire-works and illuminations, so he 
enjoyed himself greatly; the girls went about town 
taking in all the sights, and when at a late hour we 
returned home, they were just about as tired, sleepy and 
sun-burned, as two girls could be. They had been 
very patriotic all day, but when night came, they were 
glad to slip off to bed and forget everything in sleep. 

Although our “celebration” was very quiet, we have 

56 


Home Poems and Summer Memories 

had time to think of the many trials, hardships and 
sacrifices, our fore-fathers had gone through, in order 
to bequeath us this beautiful free home-land, and I 
wonder if we, as a people fully appreciate this as we 
should, and if we are doing our part, like our fathers, 
to keep our country growing better and more beautiful, 
for our children, as we should. 

Let us each one try to make our land just a little 
better place, because we live in it, it is beautiful for 
situation, and truly—“It is a land of hills and valleys 
and drinketh water of the rain of heaven, a land which 
the Lord thy God, careth for.”— Deut. i i : i i—12. 


BY THE RIVER 

It was July, the day was hot— 
With kindred souls we hied 
To find a cool refreshing spot 
Along the river side. 

We took the shoes off of our feet 
Like children free from school, 

And thought that it was quite a treat 
To wade the waters cool. 

57 


Home Poems and Summer Memories 

How lovely was that little dell 
Among the ancient trees; 

We said that we would like to dwell 
In places such as these. 

Along the bank, upon the grass 
We spread a feast to eat; 

And as we angled for black bass 
We all forgot the heat. 

Old Mother Nature had been kind 
To send this cooling stream. 

How very glad we were to find 
A place where we could dream. 

Ah me, I thought, this July day 
Is very much like life; 

Its heat drives all our joy away 
And leaves us naught but strife. 

But like a stream in parched land 
God gives His tender care, 

And He will lead us by the hand 
In pastures green and fair. 


58 


Home Poems and Summer Memories 


THE VILLAGE STREET 

Let me weave a tale of the village street; 

Where white walks gleam in the bright sunshine, 

The trees grow tall and the grape-vines twine; 

Where robins, thrushes and blackbirds sing, 

The climbing rose to the trellis cling— 

And the air is pure and sweet. 

Where the grass grows green half-way o’er the streets, 
The fire-flies flash through the summer night, 

And the full moon shines—the only light; 

The gardens flourish on either hand 
And perfume fling out across the land— 

And each one his neighbor greets. 

Round the village church with its spire so white, 

The children come through the week to play 
And scamper and sing the live-long day; 

When Sunday comes, arm in arm they walk 
Sedate and prim, as they quaintly talk, 

While their faces glow with light. 

Here, the only noise is the children’s laugh 
As they clatter by in heedless way, 

Or rattling wheels of the village dray, 

Or some one playing a lilting tune, 

Or song of birds through the days of June, 

Or tap of the Blind Man’s staff. 

59 


Home Poems and Summer Memories 


Sleep on little village beneath the trees, 

Far from the sins of the world, that blight— 
Train up your children in ways of right; 

And though they leave you as years go by, 
Full well we know for you oft they sigh, 
Though they be beyond the seas. 


IN MEMORY OF ROOSEVELT 

From a weakly delicate child, 

He grew to a sturdy man; 

He lived and loved the great Outdoors 
Till his veins with red blood ran. 

Though he had great power and wealth 
Yet the simple life he led, 

And hewed his way to fame by force, 
Now the whole world mourns their dead. 

Once he dashed up Juan’s hill 
With his men, all unafraid, 

And broke away the Spanish yoke 
When he went to Cuba’s aid. 


60 


Home Poems and Summer Memories 

He had heard their piteous cry 
’Neath the lash of tyrant’s rod, 

Then drove the foe till they fled from him 
As before the wrath of God. 

When he sat in the place of power 
On evil he turned the light, 

And strove to show the world at large 
That the only might is Right. 

When France, bleeding at every pore, 

Had called for our bravest men, 

He lay aside his own affairs 
And offered himself again. 

When they could not accept his aid 
He sent in his place four sons; 

Cheerily bidding all God-speed 
When they went to fight the Huns. 

He was friend of humble and high, 

And worked for the rights of men, 

And drove at evil with heart and voice 
And with forceful deeds and pen. 

Though busy and strong and swift, 
Impatient with what was wrong, 

He would stop to cheer a little child, 

Or list to a wild bird’s song. 


61 


Home Poems and Summer Memories 

For the good of the world, he gave 
Time, talents, and well loved son; 

To feed the starving poor, he sent 
The Peace prize he had won. 

So the world feels the loss to-day 
Of a great and fearless man; 

And though men called him friend or foe 
Mourn a great American. 


DEAR NATIVE LAND 

Dear Native Land of hills and vales, 
With golden fields of waving grain, 
Where tiny rills and rivers wide 
Flow over every hill and plain— 

For thee God careth, and doth give 
To thee to drink of Heaven’s rain. 

Dear Native Land, our fathers loved 
Thee, and upon thy altar lay 
Their wealth and talents, honor, life, 
To make thee as thou art to-day— 

A land of peace, a beacon light 
To all who will thy laws obey. 


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Home Poems and Summer Memories 


Summer Jfflemoricg Mo. 6 

FAMILY VISITS 

This has been an unusual day; last evening we went 
to the home of Aunt Ruth, and little son and I re¬ 
mained through the night; what fun he had with 
Mabel and Francis; and it was late before they could 
be persuaded to quit romping about, and go to bed. 

Sonnie, who has always slept near me, was unable 
to do so here, but Aunt Ruth takes him to her bed, 
and when he awakens frightened, in the night, she 
comforts him until he is all right, but as soon as 
morning dawns he comes slipping down stairs and 
cuddles beside me on the couch, perfectly contented. 

Like so many previous nights, I had been unable to 
sleep when I retired. But as Gladys was entertaining 
company, I had something to keep me amused and 
interested (although they were not aware of it), but 
in the wee small hours I fell asleep and felt refreshed 
when morning came. 

It is Sunday, and Uncle Oscar as usual, went to 
Sunday School in the morning, taking all the girls and 
little son with him, while sister Ruth and I visit as she 
does her morning chores and gets dinner. 


63 


Home Poems and Summer Memories 

We have not seen one another for a long time, so 
there is much to talk about—we tell of plans and 
hopes we have for the future, not only of ourselves, 
but our children—and all the other things that only 
sisters can talk about; if a brother is born for adversity, 
surely a sister is born to be a comfort and help at all 
times. 

They all come home in time for dinner, and surely 
no dinner ever tasted better than that one; there was 
chicken with noodles, salad and vegetables, cake, pie 
and many other good things, and I wonder while eat¬ 
ing it, if the name Martha would not have been better 
for sister Ruth, as she is so much like her, although 
the latter name is very appropriate, too. 

After the dinner is over and cleared away, we all 
clamber in the “Ford,” and drive over to Uncle Frank’s 
to see Aunt Ethel, and the new baby boy, who has just 
come to live with them; Sonnie is very much pleased 
over the baby boy, for so far he has been the only 
little boy in the family; “now, I won’t have to play 
with the girls all the time,” he says. 

Aunt Mary with her family, and Daddie and 
Daughtie, are all there when we arrive; like the rest 
they have gone to church first, then came to see the 
tiny new stranger. 

How proud the parents are of little Herbert Alfred, 
and how much their pleasure reminds me of the looks 
on my parents’ face when Frank, their son, was born, 

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nearly thirty years ago. What a dear red-faced, black 
haired baby he is, how proud and important his sister 
Lela is as she shows him to us, and we are all so glad 
to find him and his mother so well. 

What a lot of cousins there are now, and how much 
we all love each other; naturally we love our own 
children first, yet we are all willing to do all we can 
to help the others, and we try to overlook whatever 
faults they have, and see their best qualities, so we 
always have such good times and enjoy being together. 

What a blessing children are, surely they are an 
heritage of the Lord. 

So we rejoice in the bond that unites our families 
together, and pray that nothing may ever break it; 
what a wonderful thing love for one’s family is; surely 
nothing could be any more pure or beautiful—then 
somehow—through this, we can more fully realize how 
great God’s love was toward us, when He willingly 
gave his Son for our sakes; how true when He says— 
“As a mother comforteth, so will I comfort you.” 
“Like as a father pitieth his children, so the Lord 
pitieth them that fear Him” and “In Thee the father¬ 
less findeth mercy, I will heal their backsliding, I will 
love them freely.”— Hosea 14:3, 4. 


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Home Poems and Summer Memories 

A MOTHER’S PRAYER 

God bless our boys and girls. 

For most of them have left the old home nest 
And strayed away from those who loved them best; 
And some are all alone now in the strife 
With none but strangers near to give them heed; 
Oh, Father, be to them a friend indeed, 

And keep them in the path that’s straight and true 
So that they never may have ought to rue— 

But may they live a useful noble life. 

God bless our boys and girls. 

Now some of them have builded their own home, 
Lord, may they walk with Thee, and never roam. 
In all their trials wilt Thou be their guide. 

Oh may you be to them a welcome guest, 

And they by keeping Thee, find peace and rest; 
Teach them of love and patience, and with skill 
May they take up life’s duties with a will— 

And may they ever near to Thee abide. 

God bless our boys and girls. 

For some, dear Father, long e’er this have prest 
The face of new born babies to their breast. 

Oh give them wisdom, Father, from above— 

And help them every day to rightly train 
The children Thou hast given them through pain 


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Home Poems and Summer Memories 

So that their babes to them a blessing be, 

And live to glorify and honor Thee 

And learn their neighbor and their Lord to love. 

God bless our boys and girls. 

The little ones who still to us do cling, 

Oh show us, Lord, the way so we may bring 
Them to Thy cross, where they may bow the knee. 
Oh Lord wilt Thou be with them through the years, 
Keep them from sin, from sickness and from tears, 
And may Thy Holy Spirit ever stay 
Within their hearts; Lord may they never stray, 
And we will give the glory all to Thee. Amen. 


TREASURES 

I have a priceless Treasure, 

I wear upon my breast; 

None who wear Golconda’s gems 
Could ever be more blest; 

No diamond ever sparkled 
With such a wondrous light, 

Or shone with greater beauty 
Than this, my jewel bright; 

What is the Jewel that I wear? 
’Tis baby’s face, with eyes so fair. 


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Home Poems and Summer Memories 

I have as fine a necklace 
As worn by any Queen; 

No strand of pearls has ever 
As beautiful been seen; 

Close they fit around my throat 
And are so warm and bright, 

The wearing of this Jewel 
E’er fills me with delight; 

What is this necklace with such charms? 
My baby’s chubbie hands and arms. 

I have a lovely picture 
I look at every day; 

Naught more beautiful you’ll find 
In art, where’er you stray; 

No picture ever painted 

Is anything as fair 

As this—by the Master hand, 

None with it can compare; 

Wouldst see the picture ? Softly creep 
And see my baby, fast asleep. 

Did you ever hear at morn 
The wild birds sing and trill? 

We have much finer music 
Than that, our hearts to thrill; 

Sweet and low at first it sounds 
And then so loud and strong, 


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Home Poems and Summer Memories 


Nothing in the whole round earth 
Can sing a sweeter song; 

What is the music, do you say? 

My baby boy sings at his play. 

Gather all the Jewels 
From over all the earth; 

Get the gold and silver, 

Bring all you count of worth— 
Come to buy my Treasures, 

I would but laugh, and scorn 
To take all that the world could give 
For—baby’s kiss, at morn. 


ADVICE TO A MAIDEN 

Maiden with your bright brown eyes, 
And brown hair all a-curl, 

Rose-red lips and soft pink cheeks, 
You’re very fair, my girl; 

Dreams and aims not all of earth, 
Have given, Maid, to you 
Beauty of both face and eyes, 

And shows life pure and true. 

Tell me, maiden fair, your thoughts 
On this your natal day, 

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Home Poems and Summer Memories 

Where the woman meets the child— 
Wilt tell your thoughts, I pray? 

Do your future years glow bright, 
And does it seem worth while, 

Can you take your burdens, child, 
And bear them with a smile. 

Childhood’s sunny days are gone 
With mem’ries fair and bright, 

But you’ll leave its sorrows too, 

And heartaches, dear, to-night; 

Now, you take a woman’s tasks, 

Her work and pleasure too— 

And the blessings life may bring 
When love has called to you. 

Think about your future years, 

Be wise in choosing friends; 

Chiefly those you take for life 
Your joy on this depends; 

This day, too, you should decide 
For life, to take the One 
Who will stay through joy or grief 
Until your life is done. 

May the Lord watch over thee 
And keep you from all sin; 

May your life a blessing be 
To all your kith and kin. 


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Home Poems and Summer Memories 

A BIRTHDAY WISH 

What can I wish for your birthday, 

My dear little two-year old? 

I pray the Lord may e’er bless you 
And keep you a lamb of his fold. 

May He give you wisdom, honor, 

And beauty that will endure; 

And when you are ten times two, dear, 
May you still be as good and pure. 


THE WOMAN WHO HELPS 

There’s a woman who lives not far from my home, 
I’m happy to call her my friend; 

When I am in need of a quick helping hand, 

On her I can always depend. 

She is quick, she is neat, and on fast flying feet 
She will work from morning till eve; 

And you can be sure when she starts at a task 
She will finish it, e’er she will leave. 

She is not as strong as she once used to be, 

And the years are turning her gray; 


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Home Poems and Summer Memories 


But still she is ready to help you in need, 

Though she wash, or cook or e’en pray. 

Some times she laments that she hasn’t the time 
Or talents, for this, or for that, 

But she goes bravely on just doing her best 
Nor shirking the task she is^ at. 

Do you know—I think when the swift busy hands 
Have finished their tasks here below, 

And in fear and trembling she faces her Lord 
When to Him for judgment she’ll go,— 

He will say, “What proof do you bring, that you have 
A right to this beautiful land?” 

She will say, “Oh, Master, not much could I bring 
All the talents I had were my hands.” 

I’m sure that the Master will say to her, “Friend, 

You pass with your talents the test; 

Since you have been kindly and helped those in need, 
You are welcome to mansions of rest.” 


WHO? 

Who has such wondrous love-lit eyes 
That are like bits of summer skies, 

And look so innocent and wise? My Baby. 

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Home Poems and Summer Memories 

Who has a smile like sunshine bright, 

That drives out gloom and brings the light, 

And cheers me through the darkest night? My Baby. 

Whose cooing voice so soft and clear 
Is sweetest music to my ear? 

(Oh naught on earth could be more dear). My Baby. 

Whose dimpled hands stray o’er my face 
Or hold me in a fond embrace? 

(Time ne’er this memory can erase). My Baby. 

Whose soft cheek to my heart I press, 

And hope her love may ne’er grow less; 

And then I pray, oh Father, bless—My Baby. 


OUR HOSTESS 

I know a housewife, who is clean as any brand new 
pin; 

Dirt and disorder she abhors, nor lets a fly stay in; 

No weeds on her place growing, for she keeps things 
very neat, 

A long while you will look, before her equal you will 
meet. 


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Home Poems and Summer Memories 


She keeps each nook and corner so it’s very spick and 
span, 

No cleaner housewife ever was, since Eve her work 
began; 

Since she is this particular, you’d think that she would 
pout, 

If baby scattered cookie crumbs, or John the flies 
turned out. 


When Ott tied up the tablecloth, and through the 
house boys race, 

Banana peel and chicken bones are cluttered o’er the 
place; 

Some one pulled off the window blind—clothes scat¬ 
tered all around, 

With dishes piled up everywhere, and litter on the 
ground. 


You’d think that she would be so vexed and cross that 
she would fight; 

But I will tell you what she did, and try to tell it 
right; 

She kissed the babe and said, “Now don’t you dare to, 
spank the child.” 

Looked fondly at the little ones that everywhere ran 
wild— 


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Home Poems and Summer Memories 


She smiled at all the other pranks, and never made a 
fuss, 

Though she was tired and worried, too, by entertain¬ 
ing us; 

She fixed the finest dinner up, oh every thing was fine; 

I wish that I could do as well in fixing up this rhyme. 

Although she was so busy, she would always have a 
smile 

And cheery word for each of us, though busy all the 
while; 

Now do you know the reason why she all of this could 
do, 

And pleasant be through all the noise and the disorder 
too? 

’Tis this—she always keeps her heart clean as her 
house is kept; 

Her mind from trash is always free, with all the 
corners swept; 

Like Martha, she will always serve all that she can 
afford, 

But Mary like, she sits each day and listens to her 
Lord. 


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Home Poems and Summer Memories 

A VISITOR 

Into our humble cottage when the moon was shining 
bright, 

A tiny little stranger came, one chill December night; 

The angels must have brought her, and as she came 
from the skies, 

They placed a bit of heaven’s blue within her baby 
eyes. 

Ah bitterly she wept, because they went and left her 
here, 

But like to music sweet and shrill, the sound was to 
our ear; 

They placed her in my arms, she felt the love within 
my breast, 

Then pressed her lips to life’s warm fount and snug¬ 
gled down to rest. 

Since then she is content to stay within our little home; 

We hope that she may always be, and never far may 
roam; 

God give us wisdom, so that we may teach her as we 
should, 

So that our little visitor may grow up pure and good. 


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Home Poems and Summer Memories 

I MISS HER SO 

I miss her so— 

My friend who lives across the way; 

No more she comes 

To visit with me through the day; 

I used to watch 

Each evening when the sun was low 
For her to come— 

And now, alas, I miss her so. 

I miss her so; 

What pleasant times we had those years, 
When I’m alone 

My eyes are flooded oft with tears; 

I want to see 

Her cheery face with eyes aglow; 

She always was 

So kindly, now, I miss her so. 

I miss her so; 

How oft she helped me as I lay 
Sick and alone, 

To drive despair and gloom away. 

She always cheered 

My drooping spirit, when ’twas low, 

She was so good 

To me; that’s why I miss her so. 


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Home Poems and Summer Memories 
I miss her so 

And miss the talks that we have had 

Of books and friends 

And things to make the world more glad; 

She always wished 

To do the right by friend or foe; 

I wonder if 

She thinks of me; I miss her so. 


A WOMAN’S MISSION 

You ask me what can a woman do 
To better the social condition? 

To make the world safe and pure and strong 
Is surely a woman’s mission. 

She first must have—would she better it 
A heart that is kindly and tender, 

A steady mind and a tactful way 
And service be glad to render. 

Then she must work (dare not selfish be), 
For the things that would help her neighbor 
As well as she; she must friendly be 
Though it cost her time and labor. 


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Home Poems and Summer Memories 

If she will e’er use her mind and heart 
The social conditions to better, 

And love—and live—by the Golden Rule 
The world will e’er be her debtor. 


MOTHER 

Who watches o’er the babe with ceaseless care 
Though long the weary day and sleepless night; 

And though her face grows pinched and wan, her eyes 
Are ever glowing with a heavenly light; 

Who feeds and tends with loving gentle hands 

Or hushes fretful cry, or wail of pain 

And ever at her post of duty stands 

And does it all for love—and not for gain—A Mother. 

Who trains the tender minds of boys and girls 
To do the things that’s honest, pure and true, 

And teaches them life here is more worth while, 

If only these things they will always do; 

Who opens to their wondering childish minds 
The secrets of the life they’ve just begun 
Who tells them of the beauties God has made 
And tells the precious story of his Son,—Their Mother. 


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Home Poems and Summer Memories 

Who guides the youth and maid across the years 
All fraught with danger, which they can not see, 

And since they can not always understand 
How patient and how tactful she must be ; 

Who gives her time and strength and skill and mind, 
To make their lives more bright than hers has been, 
And with her life and prayers and good advice, 

Is striving daily to keep them from sin—’Tis Mother. 

And when the nestlings fain would leave the nest 
To build themselves new homes, who willing stands 
To help with all her earthly goods and store 
Or give the labor of her tireless hands; 

Who is it you can always count upon 

In health or sickness, through the changing years, 

Though other friends may falter or e’en fail, 

Who willing shares your happiness or tears—Your 
Mother. 

Who comes with grief and pity in her heart 
If we in sin or folly go astray; 

And though the whole world turn away from us 
Will never cease to hope and love and pray; 

And if we walk in honor’s path of right 
Who will rejoice with happy tear-filled eyes, 

And though we never win great fame or Wealth 
Will always hold us as her greatest prize—Our Mother. 


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Home Poems and Summer Memories 


Who looks toward the future without fear, 

For as she older grows, faith grows more bright; 
How tenderly she talks to you at times 
To help you do the thing that’s always right; 

All honor to our noble Mothers, here, 

We’ll crown her with love’s royal diadem; 

But when God crowns those who have done his will 
We think that He will give the brightest gem—To 
Mothers. 


A SMILING BABE 

A busy man walked with an occupied air 
Down a wide noisy street of the town; 

His face showed the marks of both worry and care, 
And his brow was all drawn in a frown; 

A mother went by with a babe in her arms, 

He saw her, and slackened his pace, 

And worry and care were forgot as he looked 
At the babe, with a bright smiling face. 

A woman to whom health and wealth were denied 
Sat dejected, and seemed so forlorn; 

In spite of herself, the tears filled her eyes, 

Life it seemed was too hard to be borne; 

But a cooing voice calls with silvery laugh 

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Home Poems and Summer Memories 

And she folds in a loving embrace— 

That which gives her comfort and strength to endure, 
’Twas a babe with a bright smiling face. 

There was one whom the tempter often had called 
And tried to entice in his snare; 

They long fought a battle, quite often it seemed 
He must yield and go down in despair; 

But a pair of bright eyes and soft dimpled cheeks 
Drove the tempter away from the place, 

And he fared forth in life made purer and strong 
By a babe with a bright smiling face. 

Then God bless the babe with a bright smiling face, 
Of such is the Kingdom of Heaven; 

The worried, discouraged and tempted are made 
More strong by her beautiful leaven; 

And if I could have that for which I long most, 

I would ask the dear Lord through his grace, 

To give me a heart just as true and sincere, 

As a babe, with a bright smiling face. 


REUNION DAY 

What does Reunion day bring? 

A glad time of song and of mirth ; 

A merry surprise, a bright’ning of eyes, 
A day that we think is well worth. 


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Home Poems and Summer Memories 

What does Reunion day mean? 

A meeting with those who are dear; 

A feast fit for kings of many good things, 

And joy that will oft bring a tear. 

What does Reunion day do? 

It binds up our friendship to stay; 

And those gone before are thought of once more, 
And seem to be with us this day. 

Long live Reunion day then; 

And when our work here is all done, 

We’ll meet by and by, up there in the sky, 

And then have our happiest one. 


TO FATHER 

All honor to father, who founded the home 
When first the world’s era began; 

The mainstay, protector, and guide he has been 
Of this institution for man. 

He works for his children with muscles and brain 
Till weary, yet will not allow 
Himself to find pleasure, until he provides 
Them bread, by the sweat of his brow. 

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Home Poems and Summer Memories 

How willing he labors for church, school and state, 
Just so all his children may be 
More fully prepared for their work in the world, 
Then more joy .and pleasure they see. 

With firm honest counsel he points out the way 
To the road of honor and fame; 

If they will but list to his goodly advice 
They’ll not know dishonor or shame. 

All honor to father, for honor is due, 

And may all his children arise 

And give him the praise that is honestly due, 

And crown him with love, e’er he dies. 


SWEET SIXTEEN 

Maid of mine, they say you are 
“Sweet sixteen’’ years old to-day; 

Oh, dear heart, to me it seems 
You should be a child at play; 

But half timid, half in joy 
Where the river joins the sea, 

You stand now, with rose-blown cheeks 
Wondering what life will be. 


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Home Poems and Summer Memories 

As you meditate on life 
And your fairy castles build, 

All your future seems so bright 
And with happiness all filled; 

While with glowing eyes you scan 
All that comes along your way 
You with eager hands reach out 
For the pleasures of to-day. 

Like a dewy rose at morn, 

Maids of sweet sixteen are fair, 
Fragrant, trembling, pure, untouched, 
With a beauty that is rare. 

Should the frost the blossoms touch 
At the coming of the dawn, 

They would wither and decay, 

All their lovely beauty gone. 

Sin is like the cruel frost 
With its sting so sharp and keen; 

And would blight the lovely life 
Of a maid of sweet sixteen; 

So while planning life, dear maid, 
Take your Best Friend, e’er with you; 
He will save you from all sin, 

Keep you beautiful and true. 


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Home Poems and Summer Memories 

AN HONORABLE LADY 

Honor to whom honor is due, 

That dear lady belongs to you— 

Looking back on a useful life 
Fifty years of that time, a wife; 

Labor and sorrow, pleasure and pain 
Have swept your life like the summer rain, 
But still you smile with a face serene, 

Your ways as regal as any queen, 

With silver diadem on your brow; 

How do you do it,—we wonder how. 

Rearing your babes with tender care, 
Ruling your home with tact most rare, 
Loving and gentle, pure and true, 

Stern, when duty demanded you; 

Living for others and being spent, 

Yet always seeming so well content; 

Hiding your longings and doubts and fears, 
Forcing a smile when you felt the tears, 
Your will to duty would ever bow; 

How do you do it,—we wonder how. 

How do you do it, well we know 
You have with you, where’er you go, 

A Friend who gives your spirit rest, 

And every day your life has blest; 

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Home Poems and Summer Memories 

All through your life, with your words and deeds, 
You’ve faithfully sown some precious seeds, 
Which springing up in the hearts of men 
Will bring a reward to you again; 

By this dear lady, we prove it true 
We honor those to whom honor’s due. 


OUR BLESSING 

Oh such a wondrous blessing we 
Through the past year have had; 

The Father sent it to us, and 
We all have been so glad; 

Now what to us could bring such joy? 

A tiny precious baby boy. 

For years we prayed our heart’s desire 
The Lord to us would give, 

But when he came, it seemed as though 
Our baby would not live; 

For months our lives were filled with dread, 
We thought at times the child was dead. 

For days and weeks we worked with him, 
All did their very best— 

The Doctor, parents, family friends, 

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Home Poems and Summer Memories 

The Lord hath done the rest; 

And then from gloom bright sunshine came, 
The Lord hath spared him, praise His name. 

Into a merry bright-eyed boy 
He grew, our tiny dear, 

With laughter sweet and sunny smile, 

And now and then a tear; 

He learned his parents both to call 
Which was to them the best of all. 

He creeps and walks around the chairs, 

This tiny little elf, 

And if he thinks no one will see 
He stands up by himself; 

Has seven teeth, weighs eighteen pound, 

Is two foot three, straight up and down. 

He loves his sister very well, 

And says he’s Mamma’s boy; 

But when his father picks him up 

It is his chiefest joy 

To wind his arms around him tight, 

And hug and love, with all his might. 

Then should we not more dearly love 
God, who this blessing gave; 

Who sent our heart’s desire, here, 


Home Poems and Summer Memories 

And saved him from the grave? 
We’ll train our boy, as best we can 
To be a true, God-serving man. 


THE SISTER THAT SACRIFICED 

When but a child, the Lord saw fit 
Upon thee, burdens great, to lay; 

Right bravely did you take them up 
And do them faithful day by day. 

You were the keeper of the home, 

And laid aside your own childhood— 

To wash and sew, to tend the sick, 

And tried to do it all so good. 

You had to mother all the rest, 

And school days sacrificed, so they 
Would gain more knowledge, as you thought 
Their future would be bright that way. 

You comforted your father, so 
He felt that he was sore bereft, 

When you at last a husband took 
And for your little home had left. 


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Home Poems and Summer Memories 

This maxim true, the Poet gives— 
“The gift without the giver’s bare”; 
But you, did truly give yourself, 

Aye, always did more than your share. 

He, who doth mark the sparrow’s fall, 
We know thy sacrifice did see; 

He’ll say, “As ye did it to them, 

Ye also did it unto Me.” 


JEWELS 

I have not many jewels, friend, 

But what I have are rare; 

No gems that e’er were bought or sold 
Can with my three compare. 

The first to us in April came 
Our Diamond girl, is she; 

God grant as pure as this her gem, 
Her life may ever be. 

On Christmas came a tiny maid 
With shining eyes so true, 

More happiness to us she brought 
Than any Turquoise blue. 


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Home Poems and Summer Memories 


More beautiful than Sardonyx 
I’m sure could ever be, 

The beautiful blue baby eyes 
That August brought to me. 

We have no other riches, friend, 
Yet quite content are we, 

And daily thank our Father kind 
For sending us these three. 


FAITH EYES 

Friend, they tell me you are blind, 
And my heart for you doth ache; 
For so great a loss 
Is a heavy cross 

That a stronger heart might break. 

Will you let me comfort bring— 
Listen while I whisper low, 

You have lost your sight, 

And your day is night, 

Yet the eyes of “faith” can glow. 

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Home Poems and Summer Memories 


Though no beauty you behold 
In the earth or sea or sky, 

Yet by faith you see 
He, who’s dear to thee, 

For thy Saviour standeth nigh. 

Now with earthly sights shut out 
You can give more thought to Him; 
And your spirit eyes 
Grow more strong and wise, 

Than before your sight grew dim. 

For your “eyes of faith” can see 
What to us can not unfold; 

May God change thy night 
To a glory bright, 

When His face thou shalt behold. 


SOME POETS 

She couldn’t write a poem so she baked one; 
Then she measured, stirred and poured, 
And the kitchen heat endured, 

As she moulded it, her cheeks were rosy-red; 
With her poem soft and brown 
She can drive away your frown, 

Because it was a lovely loaf of bread. 


Home Poems and Summer Memories 

She couldn’t write a poem so she made one; 

Then her clothes snow-white she tubbed, 

And her floors she cleanly scrubbed, 

(Though she never won a prize of great renown) 
Call upon her when you would, 

All her work was done so good; 

Her poem was the best kept house in town. 

She couldn’t write a poem so she grew one; 

For she planted with great care 
Seeds that grew to blossoms fair, 

And she labored hard to keep out what might harm ; 

By working with a will 

With all her strength and skill, 

Her poem was a garden on the farm. 

She couldn’t write a poem so she lived one; 

With loving, kindly deed 
She helped all those in need, 

And kept away from evil and all strife; 

Her poem like a song has helped the world along 
Because it was a useful worthy life. 

MY OLD SWEETHEART 

Who so kind as my best beloved; 

He ever is firm and true, 

With tender heart, like women love, 

Though he’s strong and fearless, too. 

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Home Poems and Summer Memories 

His cheery face and merry heart 
And smile drives our frown away; 

He always sees the brightest side, 
Though the sky be dark and gray. 

Trouble and sorrow come,—he takes 
His load with a happy stride, 

So none may see his burden’s weight 
Although walking by his side. 

Do things go wrong in life’s mad rush, 
He will whistle them away; 

Nor fuss or fret, you ask him why, 

He will say it does not pay. 

He willing shares a neighbor’s load 
Though it money take, or toil; 
Though far or near, he tries to help 
All the Tempter’s work, to foil. 

Like sunshine, he can ever drive 
From our hearts the clouds of gloom; 
And worry flees, since he has caused 
The bright flower of hope to bloom. 

And though the years run on apace 
Until his hair is gray, 

May he be happy as the boy 
Who won my heart away. 


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Home Poems and Summer Memories 

TO THE MOTHER OF A SON 

May God bless your baby 
And may he be lusty, 

And sweet as a baby can be; 

And as he gets older 
And stronger and bolder, 

No laddie more bonnie than he. 

And through all his childhood 
Be happy and healthy, 

A sweet tempered, kind-hearted youth, 
With pure mind and spirit, 

Unsoiled by sin, near it, 

And yearning to learn the real truth. 

What e’er his vocation 
In life may be, later, 

May it bring you honor and joy; 

May you always rejoice 
At the sound of his voice, 

And glad that you mothered a boy. 


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Home Poems and Summer Memories 


A CHERISHED PICTURE 

Close beside a little stream near by an old mill-race, 

Once stood a little cottage, to me the dearest place; 

It nestled like a dove-cote, close to a leafy wood, 

Safe from every storm that blew, it sheltered each one 
good. 

You hear the sound of laughter and then a boyish 
shout, 

As from the stream there rushes all in a merry rout, 

A troop of bright eyed laddies, each with a shining 
face, 

From where they had been swimming behind the old 
mill-race. 

On crippled feet behind them, there runs a tiny boy, 

A big black dog beside him, that was his greatest joy; 

The father smiles upon them, as all go rushing past, 

But clasps the wee lad to him, with arms that hold him 
fast. 

He struggles from his father, and runs within the 
room 

Where sits his busy mother, who’s weaving at her 
loom ; 


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Home Poems and Summer Memories 

In kindly tones she asks him, “What brought you from 
your play?” 

He answered her, “With sister, I thought I’d eome 
and play.” 

Within the sunny kitchen, he finds her on the mat, 

While nestled close beside her, a tortoise colored cat; 

Two kittens white and yellow, come at a pretty pace, 

Run on the children’s shoulders, and kiss them in the 
face. 

The kittens romp and scamper, the children shout with 
glee, 

While through the open doorway, the dog looks 
through to see 

Why all this noise and clatter, they greet him with a 
shout, 

Then children, dog and kittens, go tumbling all about. 

But soon their romp is ended, they sit down on the 
mat; 

The lad and dog, the lassie with kittens and the cat; 

And later, when their sister slips through the open 
door 

She finds dog, cat and children, asleep upon the floor. 

* * * * * 

Oh happy little laddies, safe sheltered were you then, 


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Home Poems and Summer Memories 

But many storms and trials have come since you were 
men; 

Ah laughter loving lassie with shining eyes so bright, 
Some great and bitter heartaches, youVe carried since 
that night. 

But you will always carry 
No matter where you roam, 

This picture that you cherish 
Of childhood’s happy home. 


EVOLUTION OF THE “UP-TO- 
DATE” FARMER 

Grandfather Jones was a farmer 
And always “up-to-date,” 

He had a home that was his own, 

And worked from morn till late; 

In a log house on a hill-top 
With a spring-house close beside 
(The spring ran through the whole year too) 
He lived and worked and died. 

His team was a pair of oxen 
Both gentle, strong and slow— 

His greatest joys, ten girls and boys 
Who helped to reap and mow; 


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Home Poems and Summer Memories 

None could use the scythe more deftly 

Cradle the wheat as quick 

Or weave and spin, like Jane or Min, 

Or Thomas, John or Dick. 

Though very strict about his work, 

He kept the Sabbath too, 

All in a row, to church they’d go 
And stay the whole day through; 

They often “apple parings” had, 

And husking bees at night, 

While candles made of tallow fine 
Gave everywhere a light. 

When Grandsire Jones’s will was read 
His farm to Dick he gave; 

He said, “You know Pap’s ways were slow,” 
So he began to save; 

He built a frame house, painted white, 

Put wind-pump at the spring, 

Bought a mower, patent sower, 

And soon changed every thing. 

Two teams of horses—thorough-breds— 

For both the boys he got; 

And at the fair, his cattle were 
The finest of the lot; 


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Home Poems and Summer Memories 

He got his wife a wash-machine, 

Likewise a new barrel churn, 

An organ too, ’twas something new 
The girls could music learn. 

The boys quit school when just eighteen, 
And then to farming went— 

Up ’fore daylight, they worked till night, 
But they were well content; 

The girls both went to high-school though 
And then taught school awhile, 

But learned, you know, to bake and sew 
Wash, iron and dress in style. 

Twice every Sunday to the church 
They drove—and were not late— 

Their horse well sired, rig rubber-tired, 
Were very up-to-date; 

When Dick was gone, the eldest son 
Jo, took the farm in hand ; 

And right away, to make it pay, 

He fertilized the land. 

A modern house with sunny rooms 
He built, of cement block; 

With heat and light—warm day and night— 
And great barns for his stock;, 

An engine in the cellar cool 

IOO 


t 


Home Poems and Summer Memories 

Close by the furnace stood 

That washed and churned, gave light to burn 

And swept the house up good. 

Out where the oxen once had homes 
Two high-power engines stand 
That thresh and mow, fill the silo 
And plow and plant the land; 

His son has won in “corn contests,” 

At college now is he, 

In agriculture specialized, 

A farmer he will be. 

His daughter took a course in art, 

In college was a belle, 

Gained many a prize for making pies, 

Keeps house and tats as well; 

They’re honest, kindly, up-to-date 
And all of them adored ; 

To church they go, and not for show; 

And drive there in their Ford. 


IOI 


Home Poems and Summer Memories 


Summer JWemories j5o. 7 

A NIGHT VISION 

It has been a hot sultry day, and as night comes on 
we all try to find a comfortable place to rest through 
the night. 

Daddie takes his cot out under the trees in the yard, 
and lies down without anything between him and the 
star decked dome of the sky. In the room beside me, 
Daughtie has spread a mat on the floor, and with her 
white cat at her feet, is sleeping soundly, while through 
the screened door at my feet I see little son on a couch 
with his black kitten in his arms sleeping very con¬ 
tentedly. My cot is on the porch, which is all fringed 
about with trees, through whose branches the stars 
shine; as the breeze sways the branches gently back 
and forth, the porch seems to change into a great four- 
post bed, with lacy curtains of green, spangled with 
stars, that shuts me in from the rest of the world. 

As we lie resting, the sound of voices singing, and 
the tones of a piano comes to us from a distance—it is 
very soft and beautiful as the breeze wafts it to us, we 
know that neighbor Fred and Gladys have callers and 


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Home Poems and Summer Memories 


are making merry. A lone katy-did calls plaintively 
from the willow tree, a screech owl calls softly through 
the dusky twilight for his mate in the oak tree, then 
they chatter and make love to each other until, driven 
by hunger, they flit away on silent wings in search of 
a lunch. 

There is a medley of insect noises, and they keep in 
such harmony that one can not be distinguished from 
another; as I lie listening to them, evening passes away 
and midnight comes on, and while the world is 
wrapped in dusky silence, I am permitted to see a 
beautiful and unusual sight. 

The night is dark, except for star-light,—but all at 
once there is a bright light in the heavens that makes 
it bright as day. I rise from my bed in wonder at it, 
then all at once I see the cause—a glowing meteor, 
large as the full moon—goes rushing across the sky 
toward the west; it is so near it seems I can hear it 
hiss, as it is hurled through the air; I am filled with 
wonder at it, but before I have time to arouse the 
others, it breaks into a shower of bright falling sparks 
that scatter across the heavens, then burns out and once 
more the darkness, like a soft gray curtain, wraps us 
in silence. 

What a delightful peace and quietness comes into 
our lives as we lay communing with our hearts through 
the watches of the night. Worry, trouble and the 
ordinary things of life slip away so quickly that we 
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Home Poems and Summer Memories 


seem to live in a fairy world of silence and rest; the 
hours slip away so fast that before we realize it, the 
cocks are crowing. Their call rings out through the 
quiet night as they challenge one another from their 
different homes, some of them miles away, but at last 
they settle down for another nap; there is not the 
same stillness now, but an undercurrent of restless¬ 
ness as though something unusual was about to occur. 

At last—a shaft of light pierces the eastern sky; 
there is the restless stamping of cattle, somewhere a 
bird twitters, a mother sparrow hushes her noisy brood 
—the children toss about on their beds—then Daddie 
arouses and rubs his sleep dimmed eyes, and we are 
ready to begin a new day, for morning has come. 

We feel ready to meet whatever the day may bring, 
because we have been refreshed by the blessing of a 
quiet, beautiful night, and we realize that we have 
been cared for through the night by Him, who is near 
us. 

“At evening or at midnight or at the cock-crowing 
or in the morning.” —Mark 13 135. 


AT CLOSE OF DAY 

If when I lie down 

On my pillow at night 

And review all the deeds of the day, 


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Home Poems and Summer Memories 

I can with all truth 
Say my best I have done, 

In my heart I am sure Peace will stay. 

When daylight has fled 

And the still clouds of night 

Like a curtain, are drawn o’er the earth, 

If I can be sure 

That my thoughts and my deeds 

God can bless, they may be of some worth. 

Count that day all loss 
When you lived just for self 
And for others no kind deed had done; 
Count that day well spent— 

Though no wealth you have gained— 

If God’s peace and approval you’ve won. 


NIGHT 

A whip-poor-will calls from the grove, 
The Evening Star shines bright; 
While fire-flies flash and crickets chirp, 
As evening turns to night. 


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Home Poems and Summer Memories 

When Midnight’s solemn hour draws near, 

A silence long and deep 

Seems brooding over all the earth, 

For Nature is asleep. 

Then, through the silent air there comes 
The sound of beating wings; 

And suddenly across the night 
The cock’s crow loudly rings. 

The Morning Star has risen now, 

I hear a kill-dee cry; 

The clouds are turning pink and gold 
Across the eastern sky. 

Now Night slips silently away, 

The while a robin trills; 

Because the sun has pushed his head 
Above the eastern hills. 


MEDITATION 

Did you ever lie communing with your heart 
Throughout the silent watches of the night? 
How different life always will appear 
From what it seemed to be, when it was light. 


Home Poems and Summer Memories 


Your follies rise and smite you in the face 
And taunt you in their evil, leary way; 

It grieves you much to find that you have done 
Things that had not seemed wrong, while it was day. 

As all the hours march by you in review, 

The good things you had done appear so small 
You wonder how it comes that you had thought 
To-day that they were ever good at all. 

And all the cares and worries of the day 
Appear so insignificant to-night; 

And while you gaze up at the twinkling stars 
You long somehow to do just what is right. 

Then deep within your heart, you make resolve 
That from all wrong and folly you will cease; 

And while you meditate, God seems so near, 

And trusting Him, at last you sleep in peace. 


KEEP THINKING 

Is the sky with clouds o’ercast ? 
Keep thinking 

That the storm will soon be past; 
Keep thinking 


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Home Poems and Summer Memories 

That the sun is sure to shine 
And to-morrow may be fine; 

Never sit around and whine— 

Keep thinking. 

Are there heavy tasks to do? 

Keep thinking 

Others toil as well as you; 

Keep thinking 

Just suppose you couldn’t work 
Or was nothing but a shirk? 

Mischief e’er with idlers lurk— 

Keep thinking. 

Is there much of pain to bear? 

Keep thinking 

That a smile you’ll try to wear; 

Keep thinking 

Troubles can not last for aye 
You will find them chased away 
If you don’t forget to pray— 

Keep thinking. 

Are there things that grieve and fret? 
Keep thinking 

There are many pleasures yet; 

Keep thinking 


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Home Poems and Summer Memories 

Though you may be sad to-night 
Your to-morrow will be bright 
If you live a life that’s right— 
Keep thinking. 


A SUMMER EVE 

Hear the rustle, rustle of the corn 
That a passing breeze to us has borne? 

He nods his tasseled head 
As though he grandly said — 

I am a king, and should a crown have worn. 

Homeward now the cattle wend their way, 
Weary with the heat of summer day; 

The lambkins lie at ease 
Beneath the orchard trees, 

Crickets softly chirp a merry lay. 

Hear the music through the summer air, 

See the grace and beauty everywhere? 

The stars from up above 

Are looking down in love 

And saying you are in the Father’s care. 


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Home Poems and Summer Memories 


’NEATH SUMMER SKIES 

Did you ever lie 
’Neath the summer sky 
While gentle breezes blow? 

With naught but the star-decked dome o’erhead 
And a couch of grass made as fine a bed 
As you e’er would wish to know. 

From the trees near by 
Comes a night bird’s cry, 

A bat flits swiftly past; 

Above, in a dark blue sea there floats 

Some small white clouds that are like toy boats, 

And they all sail by so fast. 

Through the whispering leaves 
A moon-beam weaves— 

Some crickets chirp a tune; 

A fragrant air blows from flower and field, 
Weariness soon leaves—to sleep you yield, 
While above you smiles the moon. 


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Home Poems and Summer Memories 


THE KATY-DID 

A friend of mine lives in the old willow tree, 

He calls every evening quite late; 

And though he will talk to me hour after hour, 
He will talk about no one but Kate. 

He’s quite a fine dresser, and wears a green suit, 
But all through the day he stays hid; 

And whene’er I ask him what makes him so shy, 
He will say “Katy-did, Katy-did.” 

And then if I tell him she’s cruel, he says 
“She didn’t, she didn’t, she did”; 

And though he will talk to me all the night long, 
In the daytime he’s sure to stay hid. 


Home Poems and Summer Memories 


Summer jflflemories j£o. 8 

BUTTERFLY DAY 

This has been a “Butterfly Day.” It started in the 
morning while I was sitting in the yard with the chil¬ 
dren, when a butterfly in a black suit with a golden- 
brown band through the center of his wings, which had 
white spots on the top, and a shade of blue-gray under¬ 
neath them, settled on my gown. 

We were very quiet and he rested there a long while, 
so we were able to observe him very closely, and he 
had scarcely flitted away until we had another visitor, 
who had lemon-yellow wings with black stripes over 
them: he was very exclusive though, and sailed away 
over the tree tops. 

As we went strolling among the trees in the big 
grassy yard, talking about our new “pets,” a pair with 
black velvet dresses trimmed with a border of gold 
around the edge, circle above our heads; although we 
try to lure them to us, they are not a bit friendly, but 
another black beauty whose wings are trimmed with 
blue lines, comes near us and rests on a blossom as 
though he enjoyed showing us his beautiful dress. 


X12 


Home Poems and Summer Memories 

Some little brown “flies,” whose wings are trimmed 
with round, black dots and a splash of black, hover 
near the well, and when we pump some water they 
settle about us, eager to drink, and are very tame, 
although a large brown one with black stripes on his 
suit sails majestically away. 

A flock of white and yellow butterflies hover over 
the garden, and little son admires them very much, 
until he finds out they are planning to destroy our 
cabbages, then he thinks they are like sheep in wolves' 
clothing, and has no further use for them. 

After awhile the children become tired wandering 
about, and go to the south porch to play, but they have 
scarcely started until Daughtie calls me to come quick¬ 
ly, as she has found something unusual; it is a large 
light-green moth, that has just emerged from the 
cocoon and is large as the palm of my hand with its 
wings outstretched; its body is snow white, there were 
little circles of rainbow colors on the wings, which had 
a lavender-gray border and were shaped like a swallow 
tail, while graceful little snow white feathers swept 
out from each side of the head; he clung to my finger 
when I picked him up so I placed him in a large glass 
jar so we could see him better; he was very quiet all 
through the day, but when evening came, he was very 
anxious to leave, and though he never fluttered a bit, 
he kept creeping about until we decided to release him, 


Home Poems and Summer Memories 

then he rises high in the air, sails away over the tree 
tops, and is lost in the dusky twilight. 

We are sorry to lose him, but he was so happy to be 
free once more, so we are content, and as we turn 
back to our own cozy fireside, we think what a lot of 
beauty one can find all about them if we but keep our 
eyes open to it. 

What a lot of trouble the Creator has gone to, to 
make things for our pleasure as well as profit. 

As I think of this, I feel how ungrateful we are, 
when we fail to observe and appreciate these things of 
beauty, as well as the more substantial things of life 
He has given us, truly the “life is more than meat, and 
the body more than raiment.” 

So while we are thanking Him for the necessities of 
life, let us also thank Him for these, for— 

“How great is His goodness, and how great is His 
beauty.”— Zech. 9:17. 


THE BUTTERFLY 

Wonderful creature 
On wings light and airy, 
Flitting about, like 
A beautiful fairy. 

JI 4 


Home Poems and Summer Memories 

Wearing a gay suit 
All red, blue or golden, 

You are the loveliest 
Thing IVe beholden. 

Resting at ease on 
The green slender grasses, 
Swaying so gently 
Whene’er a breeze passes. 

Sipping the dew from 
The heart of the roses, 
Changing your color 
Whene’er your wings closes. 

Whene’er I watch you 
All glowing with splendor, 
Somehow my heart seems 
To grow warm and tender. 

Often I wonder 
What good you are doing, 
While you seem busy 
Your pleasure pursuing. 

Delicate, fragile, 

You last but a season, 

What are you good for, 
There must be a reason? 


15 


Home Poems and Summer Memories 

Ah now, methinks I 
Have found the solution— 
“Giving out beauty,” 

Is your contribution. 

Since all the gift that 
You have is your beauty, 
Wee dainty creature 
You’re doing your duty. 

Better the world will be 
If I have striven 
Like you, to use all 
The talents He’s given. 


FLITTING BLOSSOMS 

One day some bright blossoms 
Were wishing that they 
Could fly off and visit 
A child, far away. 

A small fairy heard them 
And brought each one wings; 
Then off they flew gayly 
The swift, dainty things. 


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Home Poems and Summer Memories 

And when they had found him, 
The little child cries— 

“Oh here is a bevy 
Of bright butterflies.” 


THE FLOWERS 

The blossoms are scattered 
All over the world, 

By mountain and valley and sea; 

You find their sweet faces 
By each flowing stream, 

In whatever land you may be. 

God sent them to cheer us, 

And teach us that He 

Loves beauty, in things great or small 

He showeth his care 

For his creatures each day, 

For He is the Lord of them all. 


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Home Poems and Summer Memories 


BEAUTY EVERYWHERE 

There is beauty in the blossoms, 

And beauty in the trees, 

There is beauty in the bird songs, 

And humming of the bees; 

There’s beauty in the growing plants, 
Each flitting creature’s fair, 

Just look about you, child of mine, 
There’s beauty everywhere. 

There is beauty in each living form 
That by God’s power is fed; 

There is beauty in the cloudlets 
That sail by overhead; 

Look at the starry dome above, 

Or in the earth or air— 

If you are wise, my child, you’ll find 
There’s beauty everywhere. 


Home Poems and Summer Memories 


Summer Memories J2o. 9 

AMONG THE PETS 

It is a typical summer day. The horses trot across 
the pasture field fighting flies, and then go galloping in 
to the deep, cool shade of the grove. The cows, old 
Bess and Star, are lying in the shade of the trees, 
contentedly chewing their cud, but Daisy, the little 
white calf, has curled up in the sunshine, as though 
she thought she might grow faster if she stayed there; 
and a tiny white pig is stretched full length in his 
water trough, grunting as though he was very well 
satisfied. 

The lambs skip and play about with their mothers 
and enjoy themselves greatly, in spite of the hot sun 
and their heavy wool jackets. 

A mother hen with wings outstretched has led her 
brood into the garden, and is very busy digging up the 
plants, until she is frightened away, then she also hunts 
for the shade. The house dog has left her favorite 
chair, and stretched out on the cool, green grass under 
the trees, panting with heat. 

Little Snow-white, the kitten, has been playfully 


Home Poems and Summer Memories 

tossing a mouse that her mother had brought her, but 
all at once she goes racing off through the grass on a 
hunting expedition of her own; a red squirrel slyly 
watches her from his nest in the oak tree, while a wild 
bundle, who is crossing the road, raises up on his 
haunches to see what all the noise is about, and then 
goes hopping off about his own affairs. 

The farmers are busy in the field with plow and 
hoe, and we can almost see the corn growing; how 
wonderful the crops respond to the sun—the wheat 
fields are whitening, and a faint sweet smell of new 
mown hay is carried to us by a passing breeze, and we 
hear the clatter of the machine that is cutting it down 
in long straight rows. 

After the evening rnjeal, the farmer and his family 
go to the garden and work until night comes; the 
machinist gets in his auto, and drives across the coun¬ 
try looking after his machines and men, and preparing 
for the next day’s labor; while the busy housewife 
plans the next day’s work and meals, as she rests in the 
cool of the evening. 

How much bustle and motion there is through these 
days, even the very air seems full of life, as Nature 
beckons every one to bestir themselves and improve 
each shining hour, for now is the time of growth, and 
to cease laboring with flock or in field now, would 
mean a great loss later on, that could not be made up, 
even though one tried—so although the days are hot 


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Home Poems and Summer Memories 


and the tasks are hard, we must persevere, if we ex¬ 
pect to see results at the end of the year. 

So too youth is the time of growth; if we neglect 
at this time to cultivate and teach the body, mind and 
spirit, the things that are for their betterment, it will 
leave a scar that can not be removed, try hard as we 
can to do so, for—“as the twig is bent, the: tree in¬ 
clines,” so, if we wish to see the right kind of results 
at the end of time we must “train up a child in the 
way he should go, and when he gets old he will not 
depart from it.”— Prov. 22:6. 


THE DEAREST PET 

What is so dear as a little girl 

With bright, blue eyes, and her hair a-curl. 

With feet that patter the live-long day, 
And hands that busy themselves with play. 

With lips like rubies so warm and bright 
That sing and prattle from morn till night. 

With soft, pink cheeks, a tip-tilted nose, 
And soul as pure as a dew-washed rose. 


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Home Poems and Summer Memories 

She’s like a sunbeam with glowing light, 
And fills our hearts with a pure delight. 

How very lonely the world would be 
If there were no little girls like she. 


THE SQUIRREL 

Out in the oak is a queer little nest 
All made out of bark and leaves; 

And the wee owner peeps shyly at me 
From just underneath the eaves. 

His eyes are bright as little black beads, 
He has the cunningest paws, 

And daintily nibbles an acorn sweet, 

With teeth that are sharp as saws. 

He curls his bushy tail over his head 
Whene’er he sits down to sup, 

And saucily chatters if I go near, 

And throws down his acorn cup. 

When acorns and nuts are ripe in the fall 
He’s busy then as can be— 

While storing them up for his winter food 
Away in the old oak tree. 


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Home Poems and Summer Memories 

He scampers each summer, across the lawn 
And from tree to tree will leap, 

But when winter comes, he runs to his nest 
And curls up and goes to sleep. 


WHAT A FARM LADDIE DOES 

Up at six in the morning, 

While the east with crimson glows; 
Hearing the wild birds singing, 

Shaking dew from the rose. 

Racing across the meadow 
With uncovered head and feet, 
Watching the busy farmers 
Harvesting golden wheat. 

Chasing a frightened bunny 
While a dog trails at his heels; 

Wading along the brook side 
Looking for slippery eels. 

Feeding a tiny lambkin, 

And cuddling baby chicks; 

Trying to teach his kitten 
Some cunning little tricks. 


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Home Poems and Summer Memories 

Climbing trees in the orchard, 
And plucking some pretty flowers, 
Pulling weeds in the garden, 
Working—he thought—for hours. 

Rushing in to his mother 
For a piece of buttered bread; 
Going down to the stable— 

The colts must all be fed. 

Climbing up in the hay-mow, 

To find an old biddy’s nest, 

Lying down in the hammock 
To get a bit of rest. 

Then as the sun is setting 
He’s skipping a-down the lane, 
Bringing the cattle homeward 
Right through a shower of rain. 

But when the stars come peeping, 
A tired little sleepy boy 
Cuddles beside his mother 
Bringing her heart much joy. 

And while her arms enfold him 
An old lullaby she’ll sing; 

Dear little lad, she wonders, 

What will the future bring. 


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Home Poems and Summer Memories 

Dear little farmer laddie, 

You have wealth gold can not buy; 
And many great and noble 
Oft for such freedom sigh. 


PLAYMATES 

When time has slipped away, dear, 
And back you ofttime look 
Upon the years so long since fled, 
Like pages from a book, 

You oft will turn one page, dear, 
With heart string all aglow, 

And there you’ll find the playmates 
You once knew long ago. 

Then life was free from care, dear, 
The burdens others bore; 

Oft you will sigh in vain regret, 

But they’ll come back no more; 
Though you have many friends, dear, 
You find this true, I know— 

No friends are like the old ones 
You played with long ago. 


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Home Poems and Summer Memories 


Summer jHemorieg J2o. 10 

PLAY TIME 

This morning when the sun came up, the sky was 
filled with a rosy-pink haze that was beautiful. 

A mother hen in the back yard clucking noisily to 
her sleeping babies and a wood-pecker playing a rat-a- 
tat-tat, in the grove on a dead tree, as though he was 
calling his family to breakfast, aroused the children 
from their slumbers, and they said—“Oh what a fine 
time we shall have playing to-day”; so as soon as the 
morning chores are done, they go down to the grove 
to build a play-house. They put up a tent and are 
very busy fixing it up, and running back and forth 
for their toys and furniture; and when they come in 
at noon for their dinner, they explain very excitedly, 
how they, and their playmate Rubie, expect to spend 
the night in the tent; they are very brave and positive 
about it while daylight lasts, but change their minds 
before it grows dark. 

After dinner counsin Norma comes; they greet her 
hilariously, although little son climbs in the wagon 
with Uncle John, and goes to town. 


126 


Home Poems and Summer Memories 

After visiting some time, the girls conclude to creep 
under the house and bring out some baby puppies that 
are hidden there; so they pull up some boards off the 
back porch, dress up in old clothes, and then—after 
spending a lot of time running back and forth, for 
fear someone passing might see their costumes—they 
creep under the house and, after a lot of hard work, 
bring out three fuzzy puppies; then they forget every¬ 
thing else while playing with them. 

They are very busy with them until Daddie and 
son have both come home for supper; then after that 
is over with, we all clamber aboard the old Ford, and 
sail merrily down the old stone pike, to Aunt Mary’s 
home; we all feel very glad about seeing them, as 
sickness has kept us apart for so long, so the children 
laugh and sing, and are very happy all the way over. 

After we get there, we older ones visit and amuse 
ourselves with baby Ruth, while the other children 
bring up the cows, play hide-and-seek and toss little 
Helen back and forth in her swing in an old pear tree, 
while Eldo must bring and show us a wild bunny 
they have for a pet. 

At last the hour grows late, and we clamber into 
the Ford and start homeward. 

As we ride through the dusky night, the light from 
our machine makes a glowing path through the dark¬ 
ness, the cool, sweet air blows about us, and there are 
few words spoken; but our hearts grow care free while 


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Home Poems and Summer Memories 

worry and troubles all slip away, and we think about 
the goodness and beauty of the day. 

Daughtie curls up in the back of the machine and 
goes to sleep; little son in my arms has long been in 
the land of dreams, and forgotten all about play-time, 
but as I put them in bed a little later on, we look at 
them and wonder in our hearts like the parents of 
John did—“What manner of child shall this be?”— 
and we think what a sad old place this world would 
be without the boys and girls, and their happy play¬ 
times. 

No wonder the prophet in telling of the beauties of 
the New Jerusalem said: “The streets of the city shall 
be full of boys and girls, playing in the streets thereof.” 
—Zech. 8:5. 


OUR BABY 

Pretty and neat, chubby and sweet, 
What can you find that’s more fair? 
Wee dimpled fist where angels kissed, 
Tiniest fringe of soft hair. 

Bright shining eyes looking so wise 
At all the great world about, 

Smiling at all, great ones or small, 
Knowing each loves her, no doubt. 


128 


Home Poems and Summer Memories 

Now hear her coo, calling for you, 
Please come at once,—her command; 
Cheeks soft and pink, surely we think, 
No babe so fair in the land. 

See her wee toes in her mouth goes, 
Now hear her gurgle and laugh; 
Tiny pink ear—she is so dear 
Really we can’t tell you half. 

Then come some day over to play 
With her, and you can have fun; 
And I am sure you will feel poor, 
Just because you, haven’t one. 


AN OLD FRIEND 

I have a friend out in the orchard 
I visit with, all summer long; 

And though he can not talk my language, 
He treats me each day to a song. 

He has a pet wren and some thrushes, 
And a wise little robin red-breast; 

And in his old trunk—nicely fitted, 

A blue-bird has builded her nest. 


129 


Home Poems and Summer Memories 

When spring comes, he always has blossoms 
That are very fragrant and sweet; 

And as I play merrily with him, 

He scatters the flowers at my feet. 

By one of his strong arms supported, 

I swing gayly each afternoon; 

And when I am weary, he sings me 
To sleep, with a rustling tune. 

When September comes, I must leave him 
For school, but he still thinks of me, 

And gives me some fruit for my dinner; 

My friend is—an old apple tree. 


WOULD YOU? 


I wouldn’t be selfish with those I love best, 
Would you? 

I always have found, to divide what I had 
With mother or sister, or brother or dad, 

Gave me more enjoyment, and made them all glad, 
Did you? 

Now if there was candy or cookies or fruit, 
Would you? 


130 


Home Poems and Summer Memories 


Just sit down and stuff every bit that you could, 

Or would you divide it all up as you should, 

And take just your share, and thus try to be good 
Would you? 

Suppose you were playing, while someone else worked, 
Would you? 

Say: “Mayn’t I help you to get your work done, 

And then we can both have a great deal of fun.” 

I’m sure if you did, a good friend you have won 
Did you? 

If children are selfish, they can not be glad, 

Would you? 

And so I am going to try every day 

To share all my goodies, my time and my play; 

I think then the Golden Rule I will obey, 

Do you? 


KITTY BLUE-BELL 

Kitty Blue-bell every morn 
To my bed-room runs a race, 
Gives a funny little mew, 
Then she cuddles near my face. 


Home Poems and Summer Memories 


While she purrs a little tune, 

With her paws as soft as silk 
She awakens me to say 
She would like a dish of milk. 

Then we play out on the lawn, 
Chasing butterfly and bee, 

If I swing, she gives a dare 
And goes scrambling up a tree. 

Though she loves to romp and play, 
Every afternoon she’ll sleep, 

And I find her on my bed 
Curled up in a fluffy heap. 


WILLING HEARTED 

A small express wagon all battered and worn 
With a box for a bed—on three wheels upborn— 
Comes up to my door with a boy for a steed, 

Who says, “Is there anything now you might need?” 
I smile as I think of a lot of odd jobs, 

Then say, “Sonny, bring me a nice load of cobs.” 

So whirling about with a great deal of noise 
(Which is very common with small lively boys), 


32 


Home Poems and Summer Memories 

He goes gayly rattling and prancing away, 
Although he is working he thinks it but play, 
For joy in the task all the sting from it robs 
For he’s helping mother, by bringing her cobs. 

I think as I watch him go dancing along, 

Why shouldn’t we season our work with a song, 
And like the wee lad, we should look up and ask 
“Dear Father, have you for me now any task?” 
When one He has given, with life full of joy 
Go forth to our work, with the heart of a boy. 


SLEEPY-TIME 

Come baby bye, let us sail away, 

Away in a dream-land boat; 

Down the old river of Sleepy-time, 

So silently we will float; 

The boat rocks gently, and sails away 
To the land of fair Sleepy-town, 

All the children will welcome you, dear, 
If dressed in your little white gown. 

Sand man is coming, so close your eyes, 
Dear eyes that are shining bright; 

Safely on board the old dream-land boat, 
Sail merrily through the night; 


i33 


Home Poems and Summer Memories 


Your Pilot, safe through the night will guide, 
All children He takes in his care; 

Mother will greet you when comes your boat 
In the morn, with her babe so fair. 


EVENING LULLABY 


(Dedicated to Thoburn V. Barker) 

Sleep, baby, sleep, 

The stars will soon be peeping, 

Hush, little bird, 

My baby should be sleeping, 

Up o’er the trees 
The big moon now is creeping— 

Sleep, little baby, sleep. 

Refrain: 

Sleep, little baby, 

Lull-a-by, lull-a-by, 

Nothing can harm you while mother is nigh, 
Over your slumber, a watch she will keep 
Sleep, little baby, 

Go to sleep— 

Sleep, little baby, 

Go to sleep. 

i34 


Home Poems and Summer Memories 


Sleep, baby, sleep, 

The fairies now are bringing 
Gay little dreams 

While through the darkness, winging, 
Bright angels come 
To listen while I’m singing— 

Sleep, little baby, sleep. 

Sleep, baby, sleep, 

No earthly care to cumber, 

Rest sweetly, rest, 

For angels without number 
Guard the wee bed 
Where you so sweetly slumber — 
Sleep, little baby, sleep. 


THE END 


*35 














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